


Second Verse, Same As The First

by Hazel_Athena



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Age Regression, Established Relationship, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-02 07:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 41,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18806521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazel_Athena/pseuds/Hazel_Athena
Summary: In which is takes a village to raise a tiny, confused, and also rapidly aging alien child.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part one of three. The bulk of the fic is already written, but I’m jumping the gun and starting to post now. Hope y’all enjoy.

Day One

 

Alex wakes to the sound of his phone blaring shrilly. He prods at it, more asleep than not, and breathes a sigh of relief when it cuts out not long after. Then the ringing immediately starts up again and he swears.

 

It’s stupid o’clock in the morning on a Sunday. If someone wants his attention this badly at this hour, it probably means something has happened. Groaning, he hits the call button and, while idly noting that the spot next to him is empty, brings it to his ear.

 

Liz’s frantic ‘Oh thank god!’ is the first thing he hears, but it’s followed in quick succession by ‘my lab’, ‘accident’, and, worst of all, ‘Michael’. At which point he’s pretty sure his heart stops.

 

Only now remembering Michael telling him he was staying out overnight to run an experiment with Liz, Alex flings back the covers and slides his legs over the edge of his bed. Already reaching for his prosthetic, he starts attaching it on instinct while Liz keeps yammering in his ear.

 

She’s not making any sense, and it’s not simply because he’s too panicked to properly listen. Her words aren’t adding up, aren’t helping him to create a picture of what’s happened, to brace himself for what to expect.

 

In the end, all he can determine is that she’s still at her lab, so he should get there right away. Ending the call with a definitive nod, he decides that’s one thing he can do, and races for his car.

 

*****

 

Alex undoubtedly breaks a few speed limits on his drive in, but he’s not the only one. The parking lot is less full than usual when he pulls up, probably because it’s so early it’s practically still dark out, and he comes to a stop next to Max’s jeep. Two spots down he sees a car he knows is Kyle’s, and a little further still he spots a fancy SUV he’s pretty sure belongs to Isobel. 

 

Mildly annoyed that he was apparently the last one to be called, he nevertheless sprints for the doors.

 

He hears raised voices as he approaches, but is unable to make out any actual words. The door opens easily beneath his hands, at which point he finds everybody he expected scattered about the room, with one glaring exception.

 

Isobel has Liz cornered by one of the tables, and seems to be grilling her for information while Jenna, who must have been on patrol with Max, hovers nearby looking torn between urging her on and holding her back. Meanwhile, Max himself is standing with his arms crossed and his shoulders hunched, his brooding face out in full force as he watches Kyle, who’s turned away from the rest to focus on something in the far side of the room.

 

He doesn’t see Michael anywhere.

 

Telling himself that doesn’t mean anything - Liz would have absolutely let him know if Michael was  _ dead _ \- he takes a deep breath. “Does anybody want to fill me in on what’s going on? What the hell happened?”

 

The speed at which silence descends upon on the room would almost be funny if it didn’t make Alex’s gut clench. Almost as one, every person who isn’t Kyle turns to look at him, and all of them look some variant of guilty.

 

Liz is the first to speak. “Alex,” she says, nervously twisting a lock of hair around her finger as she uses Isobel’s sudden distraction to put a little space between her and the other woman. “You’re here.”

 

“Of course I’m here,” he doesn’t quite snap. “You called me, called everybody from the looks of it. Where’s Michael?”

 

“Uhh.” The guilty silence gets worse, and Alex lets his gaze roam over all four faces, trying to find the weak link who’s going to break and let him know what’s happened.

 

In the end it’s Jenna who caves first. Fidgeting noticeably, she leans forward around Isobel, pointing to where Kyle still hasn’t moved. Distantly, Alex realizes he looks like he does when he’s examining a patient. “He’s right there.”

 

Alex steps forward, and the group of them shuffle backward at the same time, seemingly on instinct. Steeling himself, he does his best to ignore them and peers over Kyle’s shoulder.

 

A baby, red faced and irritable looking and swaddled in what he thinks is a lab coat, stares back.

 

“What. The. Fuck?”

 

Kyle turns around to glare at him. He’s got a stethoscope out and must be checking the baby’s heartbeat. “Careful with the language, Manes, little ears are listening.”

 

“Oh please,” Isobel scoffs. Waving a hand distractedly, she gives Kyle her patented ‘How stupid are you?’ look. “He’s a baby! He can’t understand or remember anything he hears. Because he’s a baby! Why the fuck is he a baby, Ortecho?”

 

“How should I know?” Liz demands. “One minute he was poking at some of the leftover debris from the ship, and the next there was this big flash of light and whoosh, there he was! Lying on the floor, like that!”

 

“So it shrunk him? Just physically?” Max asks tentatively, almost hopefully.

 

Kyle beats Liz to the punch before she can answer. “No way, dude,” he says. Shaking his head, he folds up his stethoscope and lets the baby - Alex refuses to think of it as Michael at this point - curl a tiny fist around his finger. “I may not be an OB/GYN or even a paediatrician, but I’ve got enough training to tell you that, developmentally, this little guy is practically brand new. Like, fresh out of the oven new.”

 

“Thank you for that analogy,” Isobel drawls. Next to her, Jenna winces at her tone. “How do we fix him?”

 

She nails Liz with a pointed glare, who raises her hands defensively. “What makes you think I know? I told him he shouldn’t be messing around with stuff he doesn’t fully understand, but you know what he’s like.”

 

Alex has to admit that’s fair. No matter how many times a person might warn him otherwise, Michael will always throw caution to the winds when in the pursuit of a goal. Normally it’s one of the things Alex loves most about him. Today, though, not so much.

 

“I don’t think we should be playing the blame game here,” he says finally. Liz and Isobel look like they’re on the verge of coming to blows, which is the last thing anybody wants. “We need to know what he was working on.”

 

“It was that thing,” Liz supplies. Stepping around Max where he’s sidled up to put himself between her and his sister, she points at a large crystal structure on the lab table. It’s a deep purple in colour, not unlike some other fragments of the ship, twisted together in an elegant pattern of shapes, minus one spot that’s heavily charred, likely a result of the crash.

 

“What is it?” Jenna asks, tilting her head curiously.

 

Shrugging, Liz moves to run a finger over the piece, only to think better of it at the last second and pull back. “No idea,” she admits. “Michael said he figured it was on the ship but not necessarily integrated into it, which is why he wanted to study it. He wanted to know what it was for.”

 

Apparently it’s for rapidly de-aging people’s boyfriends, Alex thinks a little hysterically. It’d taken months for him and Michael to get themselves on the same page, let alone to be completely comfortable with each other. Trust their luck for this to happen now.

 

He stares at the piece of tech for a little longer, almost wishing he could give in to the feeling of panic he can feel teetering at the edge of his consciousness. That won’t help Michael, however, so it’s not an option.

 

Forcing himself to stand straight, he shifts slightly in place and licks his lips before speaking. “We need the same answer Michael was looking for,” he says, holding firm when all eyes turn to look at him. “We need to know what that thing does so we can try and figure out how to reverse it.”

 

“And where do you suggest we look for those answers?” Kyle asks. He’s got Michael in his arms now, and is idly running a hand over his back while the baby fusses. “You think there might be anything in your dad’s files?”

 

Tearing his gaze away from the sight the two of them make, Alex grunts. “It’s a place to start, but not actually what I was thinking,” he says, hoping very much that he’s not going to get hit for what he’s about to suggest. “If we want to know what something from the ship does, the best source of information is going to be the only other person we know of who was onboard.”

 

It takes a moment for some to figure out where he’s heading, but Isobel isn’t one of them. “No,” she says flatly. “Not him. Absolutely not.”

 

Alex meets her gaze easily, matching her glare for glare. “We’re already looking for him,” he points out. “All I’m saying is we add a couple new questions to the mix when we track him down.”

 

“You’re talking about Noah,” Liz pipes up, her face troubled. “Alex, we still have no idea where he is.”

 

“And it’s not like we can trust anything that comes out of his mouth,” Jenna adds. “Like at all.”

 

“Maybe not,” Max cuts in, “but Noah likes to brag. He might tell us what’s up just because he finds the situation amusing.”

 

“That is ... an annoyingly reasonable point,” Isobel says, looking disgruntled. “Damnit, Max. Way to ruin my plan of just killing the bastard on sight when we finally track him down.” She blows out a harsh breath. “And where exactly are we on that front, anyway?”

 

“Not anywhere useful,” honesty compels Alex to admit. As the person with the most extensive connections, the bulk of the burden of searching for Noah has fallen on him. Unfortunately, their fourth alien had gone to ground after the revelation at the Emporium reopening, and no leads have turned up since. “I’d say it’s time to redouble our efforts there.”

 

“Risky,” Kyle says, carefully shifting his grip on Michael. “Very risky.”

 

“Probably,” Max says, picking up where Alex has left off, “but we’d be looking for him one way or the other, and what Manes is saying makes sense. We’ll try and figure out another way, but we’ll also keep the Noah idea in our back pocket.”

 

“In the meantime,” he continues on, “I think there’s one more question we need to figure out.”

 

“Which is?”

 

Max snorts. “Who the heck is going to watch Michael?”

 

*****

 

In the end Isobel takes Michael home with her with obvious reluctance, and proceeds to keep him with her for the next several days. Luckily, she’s not without help, seeing as most of them make a point to do what they can, but to her credit she takes on the majority of the baby-minding.

 

While she’s doing that, Kyle and Liz put their heads together to see if they can figure out what happened. Unfortunately, while the two of them are typically the crew’s go to choices for medical issues, this is proving to be more of a technological problem, and their resident mechanical genius is currently six days old. It’s not exactly a match made in heaven.

 

Still, they manage to get by. Or at least they do until exactly one week from the day of the accident and Alex gets a text from Isobel, telling him to get to her place as soon as possible. The text assures him that everything seems fine, but there’s been an unexpected development.

 

Getting really tired of being summoned like this, Alex pulls into Isobel’s driveway at the exact same moment Max is climbing out of his own vehicle. The two of them share a look, and it’s not a pleasant one. 

 

“She called you too?” Max asks through gritted teeth.

 

“She did,” Alex acknowledges. “She told me Michael was fine, but that he’d changed somehow. I guess she figured that meant I should come see him. Same goes for you.”

 

“And Kyle,” Max says. He nods at a car parked a little further up the street that Alex hadn’t noticed until now. “That’s his rig there.”

 

So it is, Alex realizes. His stomach clenches at the thought that Isobel had felt Kyle was the first person she should call in. “I am getting so tired of this crap,” he mutters.

 

Max shoots him a commiserating look. “You and me both,” he sighs. “Come on, lets go see what we’re walking into this time.”

 

Biting his bottom lip, Alex allows Max to lead the way and trudges up the steps after him. He’s been to Isobel’s house before, albeit not often, but she’s Max’s sister, so as far as Alex is concerned that means he can go first.

 

Max raises his hand to knock, but before he can connect, the door is whipped open, and Isobel sticks her head out. “Well it’s about time,” she says, her agitation obvious. “I called you both over an hour ago.”

 

“And we came as fast as we could,” Max says patiently. “What’s up, Iz? Is Michael okay?”

 

Isobel flaps a hand, her fingers whipping back and forth with the motion. “My front step isn’t the place to be having this discussion. Get inside before you grill me.”

 

“I’m not grilling you,” Max grumbles. “I’m a trained law enforcement officer. You’d know if I was grilling you.”

 

Not wanting to get caught in the middle of an argument between the siblings, Alex shoulders past the two of them and into the house. He can hear someone speaking further in, so that’s the direction he heads for.

 

“Do you mind if I check you out with this, buddy? It lets me hear how your heart and lungs are doing, if they’re okay and all, important stuff like that. What - oh, you wanna see? Sure, go ahead. It’s a little cold, I know.”

 

Rounding a corner, Alex spots Kyle where he’s parked on the living room couch, a truly stupid grin twisting his lips as he fusses over the baby he’s supporting with one hand. “Is he okay?”

 

Kyle looks up at Alex’s question, but his hands never leave his charge. “Oh there you are. I was wondering when you’d be showing up. Isobel said she called you a while ago.”

 

“And I got here as soon as I could,” Alex reconfirms. “What’s going on?”

 

Kyle shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine. Isobel started blowing up my phone around seven o’clock, so I dragged my ass out of bed to come check on him, and he was like this when I got here. Isobel says it’d already happened by the time she woke up.”

 

“What had?” Alex demands. He takes a closer look at Michael, searching for any outward signs of harm, and that’s when he clues in. “He’s bigger!”

 

“Oh yeah,” Kyle agrees. “A lot bigger, relatively speaking. He was still an infant when I saw him yesterday, but now he’s a full blown toddler. I’d say he’s about a year old right on the nose.”

 

“Which was not the case when he went to sleep last night, or when he woke me up at two in the morning because he was hungry.” Trailing into the room with Max in tow, Isobel plants her hands on her hips and glares down at Michael like he should have known better than to let this happen. “I woke up around 6:30, thought it was weird he wasn’t yelling for food again yet, and then I found this.”

 

“Babies this age don’t need to eat as frequently,” Kyle supplies helpfully. He bounces Michael lightly on his knee, seeming downright serene in comparison to the rest of them. “They’re pretty good about sleeping through the night too.”

 

“How nice,” Isobel says through gritted teeth. “Do they also tend to age this rapidly in your experience?”

 

Kyle rolls his eyes. “You know they don’t,” he replies. “Obviously this has something to do with that freaky alien tech he was playing around with. Has anyone had any luck figuring out how it works?”

 

“Well, our brother has still regressed almost thirty years in age, so I’m guessing no,” Isobel says snidely. “What do you think, Valenti?”

 

“I think you’re taking your worry and frustration out on me because I’m a safe target,” Kyle informs her, smirking when she narrows her eyes at him. “I think this whole thing is going to have even weirder twists than we first thought, and I think Michael’s teething. You should probably invest in some soothers if you haven’t already.”

 

“Wait, seriously?” This incredibly helpful comment comes from Max, who’s apparently decided now is his time to contribute to the conversation. Alex feels a sudden urge to roll his eyes.

 

“Seriously,” Kyle replies. “Also, he can eat solid foods now.”

 

“Oh my god, I’m not mentally equipped to handle this,” Isobel moans. “Someone else needs to take him.”

 

“You’ve had him this long, Iz,” Max says gruffly. “He should keep staying here.”

 

Since he’s half afraid they’ll try and pawn Michael off on him if no one else will step up, Alex keeps his mouth shut.

 

The twins start bickering again - Isobel is now suggesting that either Liz or Jenna would be better caregivers than her, while Max is stubbornly having none of it - at which point Alex tunes them out. Shuffling over to the couch, he sits down on the opposite end from Michael and Kyle, eying them both warily.

 

Kyle snorts when he sees this. “He’s not a bomb about to go off, Manes,” he says flatly. “You can touch. In fact, it’s good for him. Babies need physical contact.”

 

“You’ve got him, he’s fine,” Alex says. 

 

Kyle gives him a knowing look, but thankfully doesn’t press. “Suit yourself,” he says with a shrug. “Me and Mikes here will keep hanging out until the rest of you lot figure out what our next move is. How’s that sound, buddy?”

 

This last line is spoken directly to Michael, who gives him a happy smile in return, and then promptly reaches out to grab his beard in a chubby baby fist. 

 

“Ouch, no pulling!”

 

*****

 

It keeps happening. Weeks two, three and four all see Michael cycle through a corresponding year in age. Like clockwork, he goes to bed at Isobel’s on Saturday as one age, and wakes up Sunday morning slightly older. 

 

“The amount of money I’m spending on kid’s clothing is frankly absurd,” Isobel muses on an evening partway through week four. They’re gathered in her living room for a strategy session, each of them getting increasingly frustrated with the situation. “He’s going to bankrupt me.”

 

“Not if you stop buying him all brand name stuff, he won’t,” Liz points out. “He’s four, what does he care about that sort of thing?”

 

“Plus it’s Guerin,” Jenna says thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him put anything other than denim or flannel on his body.”

 

“So maybe this time around I’ll install a little class in him,” Isobel shoots back. “What do you two know?”

 

“Unlikely,” Liz replies, “not if my theory is correct, anyway.”

 

Liz (and technically Kyle’s) theory is that Michael’s not only aging rapidly, but remembering his previous life each time he does so. Unfortunately, this is based solely on the facts that a) he seems to recognize Isobel and Max, and b) he refuses to talk despite now being old enough and by all accounts physically capable, exactly as he had done during his first run through childhood.

 

It’s an interesting idea, one that might be quite helpful if it pans out, but right now they’ve got nothing substantial to go on, and all debating it really does is cause arguments with their more skeptical members.

 

“Guys,” Max says, cutting in before things can degenerate any further. “This isn’t why we’re here. It’s status update time, okay? Cam, you first.”

 

Jenna frowns unhappily. “None of my contacts in either other departments or from when I was in the military have turned up anything on Noah so far. Or at least not anything we can use.”

 

“Right, well, keep looking. Alex?”

 

Alex snorts, feeling a lot less charitable than Jenna. “You really think I wouldn’t have told you if I’d found something? My contacts are as quiet as Cameron’s, and nothing I’ve managed to dig out of my dad’s files has been helpful either.”

 

“And the piece of tech he was playing around with seems to have gone dormant,” Liz says, jumping in without being asked. “I mean, it’s not even close to being my area of expertise, but I’ve poked at it a bunch of times now with nothing happening.”

 

“Which brings us back to Noah being our best possible chance of information,” Isobel sighs. “I swear to god, that man had better watch out when I get my hands on him.”

 

“Just make sure you wait until after he’s given us the info we need before you strangle him,” Jenna suggests, which Alex supposes is fair. “And that’s assuming we find him at all.”

 

“Right,” Max says sombrely. Looking downcast, he scrubs at his face with one hand. “Does anyone have anything good or useful to add?”

 

Kyle shrugs. “I’m not sure useful is the word I’d use, but if it makes you feel any better, Michael’s been perfectly healthy so far. Like, almost freakishly so. Even if the no talking thing is really weird.”

 

“It’s not that weird -“ Max starts, already heading towards a conversation they’ve hashed out at least a dozen times by now.

 

Feeling the opening strains of a headache coming on at the thought of having to listen to it again, Alex pushes out of the armchair he’s been parked in for the past while. “I’m going to the bathroom,” he announces. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

 

“Use the one upstairs, please,” Isobel says. “The sink’s been acting up in the one downstairs, and with everything going on I haven’t had a chance to get it looked at yet.”

 

Knowing full well that’s at least in part because Michael is her go to guy for problems like that, Alex merely nods and wanders off towards the stairwell. 

 

Never having been up here before, it takes him a minute to find the bathroom. Once he’s done that, however, he takes care of business and quickly exits back out into the hallway, at which point he notices the door at the far end of the hall that’s slightly ajar.

 

He takes a few steps forward to poke his head into the room. Judging by the furniture, he’s going to guess this is Isobel’s spare bedroom, and judging by the rumpled bedding, he’s also going to guess Michael’s supposed to be in it.

 

Telling himself not to panic - surely one of them would have noticed a four year old coming down the stairs and absconding into the night - he pokes around the room, wanting to see if Michael’s holed up somewhere inside. Not seeing him, he goes to check elsewhere.

 

He finds him tucked into the shadows at the far end of the bannister, far enough away that he hadn’t noticed him when he’d first come upstairs. Not knowing what else to do, he walks towards him.

 

Michael eyes him cautiously as he approaches, but he makes no move to run, or even move at all, just sits there, completely silent.

 

“Hey, buddy,” Alex tries. Kyle’s preferred nickname feels weird in his mouth, and if Michael’s expression is anything to go by, he’s not too fond of it either. “How come you’re not in bed?”

 

Still, Michael doesn’t speak or move, simply staying where he is, unblinking. Alex is sorely tempted to go get one of the others - Isobel, or maybe Kyle - but that would cause a scene, which likely wouldn’t help.

 

“Are you going to freak out if I pick you up?” Alex asks. He’s mainly thinking out loud, but to his surprise, Michael responds with an indifferent shrug. “Really? Okay then.”

 

Greatly daring, he crouches down awkwardly, and gets his hands under Michael’s arms. Hauling him up like he weighs nothing, he settles him on his hip, and tries not to think about how incredibly weird this feels. It’s the first time he’s touched Michael since the accident, and his thoughts are jumbled to say the least.

 

“So, what brings you out here?” He wonders, at the exact moment he hears Max’s voice drift upstairs, positing on how Noah’s managed to slip completely off the radar. “Oh.”

 

“Did anyone ever tell you it’s rude to listen in on private conversations?” As expected, Michael doesn’t answer, and Alex finds himself inexplicably amused. Adult Michael wouldn’t have thought twice about spying either.

 

“Come on,” he says then. “You don’t want to hear us complain all night. Let’s get you back to bed.”

 

When this suggestion raises no protests, Alex arranges Michael more comfortably on his hip before pivoting towards the spare room. Once there, he deposits him down on the frankly too large bed, and helps him climb under the covers.

 

“You know, I’ve got to give you this,” he says as he drags the blankets up over Michael’s shoulders. “You are awfully cute. I’d still like my version back, though, so if you could get on that it’d be pretty great.”

 

Unsurprisingly, Michael doesn’t answer.

 

Sighing, Alex gives his curls a quick ruffle, going with the motion before he can think better of it. “Okay, try and stay here this time,” says, and then he straightens up to leave the room.

 

Five pairs of eyes stare at him when he finally re-emerges in the living room. “What?” He asks, feeling uncomfortable under the weight of their gazes.

 

“Dude,” Kyle says. “You were gone long enough we thought we might have to send a search party. Either that or you and I are gonna have to discuss the importance of getting enough fibre in your diet.”

 

Alex scowls at him, barely resisting the urge to reach out and swat him in the head on his way by. “I found the bathroom no problem” he insists, “but I also found Michael out in the hallway, so I put him back to bed.”

 

Isobel groans at this. “You may as well not have bothered,” she says. “He’s spent the whole week getting out of bed at all hours. No matter what I do, I can’t get him to stay in for a whole night straight.”

 

“Oh,” Alex says nonplussed. “I thought he was up because he wanted to know what we were talking about.”

 

“Huh, who knows,” Isobel replies. “How’d you get him back in his room, anyway?”

 

Alex blinks. “I carried him?” He says, wondering why she looks surprised by his answer. “Should I not have?”

 

She’s quick to wave a hand dismissively. “Oh no, it’s fine. I just thought you were too busy being weirded out by this whole mess to want to go near him.”

 

“Isobel,” Liz says reproachfully. “That’s not fair.”

 

“It’s Michael,” Alex adds, wanting to nip this idea in the bud immediately. “Just because I find this mess ... off putting, doesn’t mean I won’t do whatever he needs me to.”

 

Isobel smirks at him as she leans over to reclaim her abandoned drink from its coaster. “Good to know,” she says, her mouth curving upwards in a way that makes Alex decidedly uncomfortable.

 

Weeks later he’ll think back on this, and realize it’s the exact moment he’d set himself up as her fall guy.

 

*****

 

They get a break in week five. 

 

Not with regard to Michael and his situation, unfortunately, but rather with Noah. One of Jenna’s contacts had spotted him, on a traffic cam of all things, heading north in Wyoming.

 

“What the hell is in Wyoming?” Isobel wonders aloud when Jenna hands over the information. 

 

“Not us,” Max says tiredly. “Which I suspect is the point.”

 

They’re squirrelled away in Liz’s lab for this particular meeting, somewhat ironically because Liz herself isn’t here. She’s off watching Michael at her place, hopefully keeping him out of trouble. Kyle’s also nowhere to be found, as he’s on shift this afternoon.

 

“The town he was in is called Hanna,” Jenna explains. “It’s small, really small. There’s no way he would have passed through there without somebody remembering him.”

 

“Unless he messed with their heads,” Isobel reminds her, “Which we all know he can do.”

 

“Sure,” Alex agrees, speaking up for the first time, “but can he mess with technology? If he got caught on a traffic cam, he might also show up elsewhere. Some of us should drive out and see what we can find.”

 

“Oh, that’s a brilliant idea,” Isobel scoffs, “so he can wipe the minds of whoever goes, and we wind up with even more messes on our hands. That’ll help Michael for sure.”

 

Alex gives her a confused look. “That has literally been our plan all along,” he says slowly. “Kyle and Liz would study both the tech and Michael himself to see if they can reverse this on their own, and at the same time we look for Noah to see if he knows anything.”

 

“Plus finding him in general has kind of been a priority given the whole alien serial killer schtick,” Jenna reminds her. “Just saying.”

 

“Alright, yes,” Isobel sighs. “You both have valid points. However, how do we protect whoever goes after him? I don’t want to see anybody else getting hurt by my traitorous ex, and, no offence, but most of our little crew is vulnerable to him.”

 

“Which is why it should be you and me, Iz.”

 

The room goes deathly quiet as they all turn to stare at Max.

 

Who shrugs.

 

“You and me, Izzy,” he says again. “We’re the ones who have to go. You’re the only one who can go toe to toe with him, and with Michael down for the count, you’ll need my powers for backup. It has to be us.”

 

Isobel frowns, but she doesn’t seem as directly opposed to the idea as Alex might have thought. “I’m not sure going toe to toe with him is exactly what I did last time. He’s still stronger than we are.”

 

“At full power, yeah,” Max agrees, “but the plan was always to take him down with a refined version of Liz’s serum. One that would leave him powerless, but not necessarily kill him. I don’t see why that would change.”

 

“It wouldn’t,” Jenna says helpfully, “and since Ortecho is pretty sure the newest serum batch will work that way, you should be fine. Then again, anyone could use the antidote, so it doesn’t necessarily have to be you two who go.”

 

Max makes a face that clearly says he disagrees. “The serum isn’t in him yet,” he notes. “Until it is, and until we’re sure it’s worked, he’s dangerous.”

 

“Much as I hate to admit to my dear brother here being right about anything, he is in this instance,” Isobel says. “Noah can just bat aside any human who comes at him, especially when we don’t have Michael’s powers to add to the mix.”

 

They’re overlooking a critical detail. “Michael’s spent the last five weeks living with you, Isobel,” Alex points out. “He definitely can’t go on this trip, so where do we put him while you’re gone?”

 

“Honestly, Valenti’d probably jump at the chance to take him,” Isobel says thoughtfully. “The man clearly thinks he’s adorable. And Liz watches him all the time, she’s got him right now. I’m sure she’d be happy keep him for however long we’re away. Which shouldn’t be that long, right?”

 

“I mean, preferably not?” Max tries. “On the other hand, he’s no doubt moved on already, and we have no idea how cold the trail will be when we get out there. We could be gone for a while.”

 

“Ugh,” Isobel makes a face. “That’s just what I want - spending ‘a while’ in the middle of nowhere, Wyoming. No doubt it’ll be buckets of fun.”

 

Her level of sarcasm could outdo Michael at his worst, and Alex can’t help but wonder if it runs in the family. He sits back to listen as Jenna and Max start coming up with a plan to cover for him with Sheriff Valenti, idly wondering who’s going to wind up with Michael in their care since Isobel doesn’t seem to have made a decision on that yet.

 

Hopefully she’ll pick someone with experience around kids.

 

*****

 

“Absolutely not,” Alex says near the end of week six. He glances back forth between Max and Isobel, before finally letting his gaze trail downwards. Michael looks back at him, his eyes huge and solemn from where they’re barely visible under his riotous curls. “No fucking way.”

 

“Don’t swear in front of the kid,” Max says tiredly, as if Alex hadn’t seen him do exactly that all of three days ago. “You’ll teach him bad habits.”

 

“It’s Michael,” Alex shoots back, feeling slightly bad when he says it, but also not letting that stop him, “he basically consists of bad habits. And besides, I thought he still wasn’t speaking yet?”

 

“He’s not,” Isobel confirms, “and if Liz and Kyle’s theory is correct, he probably won’t start for at least a couple more weeks. He was somewhere between eight and eleven the first time around.”

 

“What?” Alex demands. “You don’t know?”

 

A guilty look flashes across her face, echoed by the same expression appearing on Max. “We didn’t see him for a few years after the Evans family took us home,” she admits. “Even though we could sense him.”

 

Like that makes it any better, Alex thinks meanly. He almost says as much aloud, but figures he’s got better things to do than agitate the twins to the point of tears. Especially somewhere Michael’s bound to witness it.

 

“He can’t stay here,” is what he says instead. He crosses his arms over his chest for added measure, wanting to look stern. “I’m in no shape to watch after a kid. I can barely get myself around.”

 

“Bullshit,” Isobel says succinctly, while next her, Max winces. Apparently his no swearing around the kid campaign is going as well as can be expected. “That’s such a crock, Manes. You just don’t want to do it.”

 

“That’s not why,” Alex insists. It is, a little bit, but there’s no way Alex is saying as much with poor Michael  _ right there.  _ “This place barely has space enough for me, and I’m still getting used to, you know, missing a leg. What if he bolts or falls or something and I can’t get to him?”

 

“He’s a kid, not a suicidal puppy,” she replies dismissively. “He has some survival instincts, thanks.”

 

“Regardless,” Alex stresses. “I highly doubt I’m the best person for the job. He’s been living in your home for weeks now, so I’m sure he’s settled in there. Leave him with Liz like you first planned.”

 

“Words have not been invented yet to explain how much we cannot do that,” Isobel informs him. She nods at Michael who is  _ still _ being forced to listen to this conversation. It’s probably going to give him a complex. “Turns out he’s giving her baby fever.”

 

Alex blinks. “ ... how?”

 

“By existing,” she says. “Every time he does something even moderately cute, Liz melts and starts muttering about little feet running around. It’s not a situation we can let go unchecked.”

 

As far as Alex is concerned, that’s got absolutely nothing to do with him and isn’t justification for dropping a mute alien six year old in his lap. He opens his mouth to say as much, but Max beats him to the punch.

 

“That’s not the real reason,” the other man says softly, reaching out to stroke a gentle hand through Michael’s curls. “You’re the only person on this planet who loves him as much as we do.”

 

Alex stiffens. He wants to deny that’s true, or, if not that, at least snarl over how they have no right to use it against him. Unfortunately, Max isn’t done yet.

 

“More importantly, you have the training and the resources and the connections to protect him if it comes to that,” he adds. “You’re our heaviest hitter after Izzy and I. Given everything, we know there’s nothing you won’t do to keep him safe.”

 

“It has to be you, Alex,” he says. “Because we have to go to try and find him some help, but we can’t bring ourselves to do it if we don’t know he’s here with you. Please.”

 

He’s being manipulated. Alex  _ knows _ he’s being manipulated; he can’t not when he was raised by a master at it. On the other hand, he also knows it’s working. He looks down, and is promptly snared by Michael’s gaze. That, more than anything, seals the deal.

 

“Alright,” he sighs. “When do you leave?”

 

*****

 

The answer is apparently ‘right fucking now’. Having banked on the idea that Alex would cave eventually, the twins had arrived with Michael’s possessions stashed away in the back of Max’s jeep. It takes no time at all to retrieve them, and the next thing Alex knows, he’s standing on the porch watching them say goodbye.

 

“Is there anything in particular I should know about?” He asks Max once he’s done and Isobel is taking her turn. To her credit, she seems genuinely distressed about leaving Michael behind now that the moment is here. “Any freaky alien stuff, I mean?”

 

Max, bizarrely, pulls a black capped marker out of his pocket. “Here,” he says, handing it over. “You’re gonna want this. It’s water soluble,” he adds, like that makes any more sense.

 

Alex takes the marker, raising his eyebrows as high as he can. “Okay?”

 

“He went through ... a phase,” Max explains. “Back when he didn’t talk, he liked drawing symbols wherever he could. Uh, on the walls, usually. Isobel says he just started doing it over at her place.”

 

“Wonderful,” Alex replies. “And when did that stop?”

 

“Probably around when he started talking,” Max says, flushing guiltily when Alex narrows his eyes at this non-answer. “Sorry. That’s the best I’ve got.”

 

“On the plus side,” he continues on, “other than that he’s a real hardy kid. We don’t get sick, and he’s old enough now that he’s at least a little self-sufficient.”

 

“He’s six,” Alex says flatly. If Max thinks that’s an age to be self-sufficient, he hopes to god he and Liz never spawn. The results could be disastrous.

 

And speaking of disastrous, a thought occurs to him. “When will the telekinesis kick in?” He asks.

 

Max shrugs. “It already has. His control’s really good, though. It always was from day one.”

 

“Wonderful,” Alex says again. Part of him wants to call this plan out for the utter insanity it is, but the rest of him knows he’s already committed. Stuffing the marker into his pants pocket, he turns to where Isobel is now leading Michael up the front steps, his tiny hand enclosed in hers.

 

“Okay,” she says breathlessly, and Alex doesn’t think he’s imagining the slight catch in her voice. “Everybody ready?”

 

_ No _ , Alex thinks forcefully. From the narrow eyed look she gives him, he wonders if Isobel hears. He shrugs, waving the thought off. “As ready as we’ll ever be.”

 

The twins share a look he doesn’t have a hope in hell of figuring out. It seems to consist mainly of micro expressions and for all he knows actual telepathy. Then Max nods, Isobel nods, and the next thing he knows Michael is being nudged forward into his space while the two of them climb down the steps.

 

“I expect to get him back completely unscathed, Manes,” Isobel calls over her shoulder. “Not so much as one precious curl out of place, you hear me?”

 

Alex doesn’t respond aloud, but he nods when they both stare at him before getting in the vehicle. He watches them back out of the driveway, eying the jeep until it’s out of sight, and only then does he move to look at Michael.

 

Who he finds staring right back at him, his eyes dark and his backpack clutched in both fists. He doesn’t have to be psychic to know this is not a happy child. Fruitlessly, he searches for something safe to say.

 

“Have you had breakfast?”

 

*****

 

Alex successfully keeps Michael alive for forty eight whole hours without breaking down and running for the hills as fast as his remaining leg can carry him. It’s a struggle, especially since Michael’s adamant refusal to talk means he has no idea what he wants at any given moment, but he does it.

 

He’s so focused on achieving the bare minimum, however, that he forgets how this version of Michael comes with an added special twist. Max and Isobel drop him off on a Friday, and when Sunday morning rolls around, Alex wakes to a significantly older kid.

 

Or well, he’s about a year older, just like he’s been every other time. He’s a little taller, a little thinner, and his hair has somehow managed to get even wilder. Dimly, Alex wonders if he should try cutting it.

 

Probably not, he decides, glancing surreptitiously at Michael while in the middle of trying to put together a healthy breakfast for him. The kid was no doubt traumatized enough by everything going on around him. There’s no need to add to that.

 

He sets the plate down in front of Michael, and gets what he assumes is a nod of thanks in return. It’s become readily evident that age seven was not the one where Michael had started speaking, so they’re going to have to wait until at least next week to see what happens there.

 

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Alex bites back a sigh as he watches Michael eat. Thankfully, there’s nothing wrong with his appetite, and he tucks into the meal with gusto. Alex is actually considering trying to make a joke to break the morning’s ice, but he’s abruptly cut off by the sound of knocking on his front door.

 

Startled, he shoots a quick glance at Michael, who’s gone from relaxed to eying him warily. Forcing himself to remain calm, Alex waves a hand at his plate. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” he says. “You keep eating, and I’ll see who it is.”

 

He holds Michael’s gaze until he nods, and then proceeds to lumber out of the room. He hasn’t bothered to put his prosthetic on yet this morning, choosing instead to go with a crutch, and he wonders idly if he’s about to have to use it as a weapon yet again.

 

Then he reaches the door and finds Kyle hunched over and peering through the panels of the window, at which point he decides he’s  _ definitely _ doing so.

 

He hauls the door open without warning, mildly amused when the motion sees Kyle almost topple forward onto his face. That’s what he gets for lurking on people’s front steps unannounced. “What are you doing here?”

 

Kyle straightens up to his full height, and grabs a bag that Alex has just now noticed is sitting at his feet. He smiles brightly. “Haven’t you heard? I do house calls now.”

 

Alex blinks slowly, wondering if he’s hallucinating. “What are you talking about?”

 

Kyle’s grin doesn’t fade entirely, but it does shrink some. “Shit, seriously? Nobody told you?” When Alex shrugs, he waves his bag for emphasis. “It’s Sunday, man, that’s Give Michael A Check-Up Day.”

 

Alex blinks some more. “It’s what?”

 

Sighing heavily, Kyle shifts the bag to sling it over his shoulder, and then has the nerve to scoot his way properly inside without an invite. “Every time he ages a little more, I pop by and look him over to make sure he’s okay. You know, meeting his milestones and all that. Max and Isobel made me swear to keep doing it while they’re gone.”

 

“So,” he adds while Alex is still trying to process this. “Where is he? Please tell me you haven’t accidentally killed him or lost him or something.”

 

“No!” Alex says hotly. Glaring at Kyle, he gestures towards the kitchen. “He’s fine. He’s eating breakfast.”

 

“Yeah,” Kyle nods sagely. “Kid’s got an appetite like nobody’s business. I’ll just go find him then, shall I?”

 

Not knowing what else to do, Alex shrugs. He watches Kyle make his way across the small living area, pausing only briefly to examine a patch of wall that Michael had taken a marker to the night before.

 

“He got you too, did he?” Kyle asks, tilting his head as if that’ll help him understand the symbols better. “Max had Liz and I watch him in the lab last Wednesday. Every time one of us turned our back he’d go for a new spot. I’m pretty sure he thought it was a game.”

 

“It’s not hurting anything,” Alex replies. Kyle is far too chatty for his liking this morning, it’s starting to make his head ache. “I thought you had an examination to perform?”

 

“That I do,” Kyle agrees. “I just need - oh, hey, buddy! There you are.”

 

Following Kyle’s gaze, Alex notices that Michael has abandoned the kitchen to come see what all the commotion is about. He’s standing in the doorway, calmly watching them both.

 

Kyle cocks his head at him, his expression now assessing. “You definitely got taller,” he decides, “but we’re going to have to measure you to figure out by how much.”

 

He moves to continue on into the kitchen, but is stopped by Michael holding up a hand. As Alex watches, Michael shakes an admonishing finger at him, and then rotates said hand until he’s holding it out, palm up and clearly waiting for something.

 

“Right, right, I almost forgot.” Laughing, Kyle shoots Alex a look over his shoulder. “Mikes and I have got a system worked out,” he explains, all while rooting around in his pockets. “Now, where the heck did I put them? Aha, here we go.”

 

Pulling free a pair off different coloured suckers, he holds them up for Michael to see. “Alright, which one’s first this week?”

 

Michael considers the offerings for a moment, before point towards a purple coloured candy. Nodding, Kyle gives it to him, and then stuffs its remaining partner - this one red - back away.

 

“What?” He asks when he spots the look Alex is giving him. “Any half decent doctor will tell you bribery is a man’s best friend.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Alex wonders how the hell this became his life.

 

*****

 

Alex gets up in the middle of the night thanks to a pressing urge in his bladder. Not wanting to bother with his prosthetic since he’ll be coming right back, he grabs the crutch he keeps propped up against the end table, maneuvering to the bathroom as quietly as he can so as not to wake Michael.

 

Having taken care of business once he’s reached his destination, he splashes some cold water on his face before moving to head back. Deciding it can’t hurt to check on his charge, he eases Michael’s door open and pokes his head inside.

 

Only to find it empty.

 

His heart in his throat, Alex sprints down the hall as fast as he’s able, flicking on all available lights as he goes. “Michael?” He calls, darting into the now illuminated dining/living room space. “Michael?!”

 

He hears a quiet cough and twists, trying to determine its source while panic bubbles through his veins, turning his blood to ice. The sound rings out a second time, and he stumbles over to the couch since it seems to be coming from there.

 

Peering around the arm, he breathes out a sigh of relief when he finds Michael there, crouched down in the space between the back of the furniture and the wall. “Oh thank god,” he says raggedly. “You scared the hell out of me!”

 

Michael gives him a wary look, one he’s become all too familiar with over the past few days. He also stays where he is, curled in on himself like he’s afraid Alex is going to try and drag him out of his hiding space, and his silence is more eerie than ever.

 

Deciding not to let that stop him from figuring out what’s going on, Alex plants his hands on his hips and tries to look as in charge as possible. He doubts he succeeds overly well, mind you, but it’s the thought that counts. “What’re you doing back there?”

 

Michael shrugs and ducks his head when Alex tries to make eye contact. He picks errantly at the hem of his pyjama shirt, his fingers catching on a stray thread as he steadfastly refuses to look back up.

 

It’s on the tip of Alex’s tongue to once again demand an explanation of what’s going on when he realizes that might not be the best track to take. He keeps forgetting who he’s dealing with.

 

Adjusting his crutch to a more comfortable position, he shifts to try and look less stern. “Michael, I’m not mad,” he says softly. “You weren’t where I expected you to be and I got worried. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

 

That makes Michael look up. Familiar eyes gaze at him, narrowing as if searching for a lie in his words. Alex does his best to appear calm, and after several beats have passed offers Michael his free hand. “Do you want to come out?”

 

A handful of seconds tick by before Michael shrugs. He grasps Alex’s reaching hand with his much smaller one, allowing himself to be helped to his feet and tugged out from behind the couch.

 

“That’s better,” Alex says, even though the expression on Michael’s face tells him he’s not so sure he agrees. “Now, why aren’t you in bed? It’s late.”

 

It is, in fact, well after midnight, but Michael doesn’t seem to care as he extends one hand to point towards the bay window at the front of the room. Alex lets his own gaze trail that way, and it’s then that he spots the conglomeration of items piled up by the window sill. Intrigued, he trudges over for a closer look.

 

There’s a chair pushed right up next to it, like someone of a smaller stature would need to crawl up onto the ledge. The blanket Alex typically keeps thrown over the back of the couch is now flopped in a tangled pile, dangling partway down to the floor, and his emergency flashlight is sitting next to an open notebook in which dozens of constellations have been scribbled on page after page.

 

It doesn’t take a genius to put it all together once he’s seen most of the picture. Michael - who won’t ever grow out of looking at the stars - had come to the one place in the cabin he could easily see them, and then settled in to enjoy himself. Without his permission, Alex feels a fond smile stretch across his face.

 

“Some things never change,” he murmurs. He glances back over his shoulder to where Michael is still watching him silently, at which point he comes to a decision. “I should put you back in bed,” he says, Kyle’s ominous warnings about proper childcare routines ringing in his ears, “but how about we do something different instead?”

 

Michael cocks his head to one side, inviting Alex to keep speaking through the gesture alone.

 

Alex grins. “Go get your coat and shoes. I’ll meet you when I’ve got myself presentable. Okay?”

 

Michael bounces on his toes, intrigue and wariness clearly warring within him until the former wins out. Turning around with a nod, he bolts for his room, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the hall as he goes.

 

Telling himself he’s acting foolish, but also not caring, Alex follows him at a much slower pace. Bypassing Michael’s room, he steps into his own and sits down on his bed so he can began attaching his prosthetic. Given the hour and the darkness, he’s going to want more than just the crutch where they’re going.

 

He’s still tinkering with the fit when he feels a pair of eyes on him. Having obtained coat and shoes, Michael is standing in the doorway, watching him with a furrowed brow. 

 

“I’ve got to make sure it’s set right,” Alex explains, assuming that Michael won’t have seen anything like it by this age. “Otherwise it’s uncomfortable and won’t necessarily work properly.”

 

Michael nods in understanding and takes a couple steps into the room. When his doing so gets no reaction from Alex, he crosses the distance between them, and reaches towards the prosthetic with a tentative finger, freezing with the digit hovering a centimetre away.

 

Alex chuckles, for once not bothered in the face of such open curiosity. “It’s okay,” he assures. “You can touch.”

 

Both of Michael’s hands are on the prosthetic before the sentence has fully left his mouth. He’s careful, far more careful than might be expected of a child his age, and the way his hands prod at the various sections belie the skill he’s going to possess when he’s grown. 

 

“Does it pass muster?” Alex asks him.

 

He’s not expecting an answer, and nor does he get one. The closest Michael comes is a one shoulder shrug right before he pulls his hands away. He gives the limb one last past, then points towards the hall as if to tell Alex he needs to get moving.

 

“Yeah, I know,” Alex agrees. “Just let me grab some pants and maybe a sweater. Sleeping in shorts this time of year is okay, but it’s a bit too cold to be wandering around outside that way.”

 

Michael’s waiting by the front door for him when he emerges from the bedroom, a mess of curiosity and confusion still competing with each other on his face. He watches Alex fold up his purloined blanket, and confusion wins out when he tosses it over his shoulder rather than back on the couch.

 

“What?” Alex asks, laughing at his expression. “We’re not sitting on the bare ground. It’s chilly and we’ll get dirty. Here,” he adds, offering up the flashlight, “I want to bring my crutch too, so you’re going to have to hold this.”

 

Michael glances pointedly back and forth between the hand Alex has slipped into the top of his crutch and the one that’s still empty. His eyebrows go up. 

 

Alex snorts. “Yeah, this one’s for holding onto you. I’m not risking losing you in the dark. Deal with it or we stay inside.”

 

Sighing with obvious reluctance, Michael lets Alex take him by the hand and lead the way out of the cabin. They make their way down the front steps, after which Alex guides them towards the trails he knows are tucked away beyond the tree line.

 

They’re not going far, which turns out to be a good thing. Between Alex’s need to be careful with his footing and Michael’s somewhat erratic control of the flashlight, anything resembling an extended hike would be doomed to failure. 

 

The destination Alex has in mind is a clearing not far from the cabin. He pulls Michael to a stop when they come upon it, motioning him back so he can spread the blanket out, thereby making the ground a little less uncomfortable to sit on.

 

Carefully, Alex lowers himself to the ground and arranges his limbs so that he can put Michael in his lap. “You don’t know this yet, but we’ve spent an awful lot of time stargazing together. Turn off the flashlight and look up.”

 

That simple request turns into more of a production than he’s expecting. At one point he gets the wind knocked out of him by a bony elbow catching him in the stomach, but it’s all worth it when the light goes out and he hears Michael’s quiet gasp. 

 

“Not bad, eh?” Canting his head backwards, Alex stares up at the sky to take the view in for himself. “Definitely a better view than the one from the front window I’d say.”

 

He feels Michael’s curls brush back and forth over his chin, and is going to assume that means he’s nodding. 

 

They sit like that for a while, long enough that Alex can feel his leg going stiff, but he refuses to move until Michael gives him a sign that he’s ready to go back in. He’s well aware that Michael’s first shot at a childhood hadn’t exactly been rife with pleasant surprises; at least this time around he can help a little with that.

 

“Huh,” Alex says belatedly when a thought occurs to him. “We should have brought  your markers too.”

 

Somewhere around his sternum, Michael giggles.

 

*****

 

After that night, Michael finally stops looking at him like he’s someone to be wary of, and instead seems to accept that he’s safe in Alex’s care. He still doesn’t speak, but he smiles more, and he stops flinching whenever Alex moves unexpectedly.

 

They get along okay. More often than not, Alex feels completely out of his depth, but Max had been right when he’d described Michael as a hardy kid. Most days he seems content where he is, especially since Alex sees no reason to try and stop him from expressing himself how he sees fit.

 

The thing is, Max had also been right when he’d warned him about the markers. In lieu of speaking, Michael scribbles alien symbols all over anything he can reach, up to and including, Alex’s walls, Liz’s lab, and once, memorably, Kyle’s face.

 

Alex has to pause when that last one happens. Assuming the two of them would be enough to take care of him, he’d left Michael with Liz and Kyle for the day while he’d puttered around in the bunker, doing what he could to help with the search for Noah from afar. This was not what he’d expected to come back to.

 

Tilting his head to the side, he watches Kyle scrub a cloth repeatedly over his skin, the motion only doing so much to remove the large black moustache he’s currently sporting. It’s not even something otherworldly this time. This is clearly just Michael being a little shit. “How?”

 

Kyle glares at him, but doesn’t answer, so Alex turns to where Liz is likewise occupied. She’s got Michael parked on top of a stool and is scrubbing industriously at the matching black marks adorning his fingers. At least she seems to be making more headway.

 

“He fell asleep at one of the tables,” she says. Alex is going to assume she’s referring to Kyle as opposed to Michael. “Sometimes he takes catnaps in between experiments.”

 

“And you somehow failed to notice he was turning me into his next Picasso?” Kyle grumbles, his voice muffled by the cloth he’s using to clean up with. “That’s real observant of you, Ortecho, thanks.”

 

“Oh, he wasn’t anywhere near you,” Liz says blithely. Michael tries to pull his hand away from her, and scowls when she holds firm. “He was actually drawing on a pad I gave him for once,” she adds, nodding towards the item in question. “He got you with his tk.”

 

Alex blinks, startled, and Kyle’s head shoots up in surprise, the job of getting himself clean seemingly forgotten. “He’s got enough control to do that?” He asks, shifting his attention fully to Michael. “Holy crap, buddy. That’s impressive.”

 

“But still an inappropriate use of his powers,” Alex stresses when Michael perks up. He holds the kid’s gaze when he shoots him a small scowl. “Kyle’s not a drawing board.”

 

Michael sighs heavily, his entire body sagging like he’s carrying the weight of the world. He makes another attempt to pull free from Liz’s grasp, and this time is successful because he matches the motion up with an alarm going off.

 

“Shit,” she mutters, already turning towards where one her many beakers has started bubbling over. “Can either of you finish with him? I’ve got to get that.”

 

Kyle holds up his face cloth to show he’s already occupied, after which he turns back to the mirror he’d been using to help him see where the ink is. Alex throws a dirty look at his back, but his heart’s not really in it.

 

“Alright, come here,” Alex says. Taking Liz’s own cloth from her as she passes him, he settles on the stool next to Michael’s and reaches for his closest hand. “How’d you get this all over yourself, anyway? Did your marker burst?”

 

Michael shrugs unhelpfully, and then proceeds to ignore Alex’s attempts to clean him up in favour of scrambling out of his own seat and into Alex’s lap. He perches there like he has every right to, and it’s only once he’s certain he’s not about to be shoved off that he deigns to allow his fingers to be examined.

 

“Aww,” Kyle coos when he notices this. “He likes you.”

 

Sighing, Alex tosses a marker at him, grinning at Michael’s bark of laughter when it bounces off his forehead. “You missed a spot.”

 

And so it goes.

 

*****

 

Alex comes awake in week eight to find Michael staring at him from six inches away. “Jesus!” He yelps, flinching away on instinct. “What the hell, Michael? What’re you doing in here?”

 

Cocking his head to the side, Michael gives him an unimpressed look. “I’m hungry,” he says flatly.

 

His hand halfway to his face to wipe the sleep from his eyes, Alex freezes. “Did you? What did you just say?”

 

“I said I’m hungry,” Michael repeats, and now he’s gone from looking unimpressed to exasperated. “When’s breakfast time?”

 

“Whenever you want,” Alex says, dazed, “but back up for a second first. You’re talking.”

 

“Yeah, and?” Michael shrugs like this is the most irrelevant detail in the world. “I always could. I just didn’t want to.”

 

“And now you do?” Alex asks dubiously.

 

Michael shrugs again. “Sure. Can we eat or what?”

 

Resolving himself to the fact that early morning revelations apparently can’t compete with Michael’s stomach, Alex nods and sits up. “Yeah,” he says, swinging his legs over the side of the mattress and reaching for his prosthetic. “Just give me a minute.”

 

Breakfast is the loudest affair Alex can remember it being in recent memory. It seems that now Michael’s decided he feels like talking, he’s also decided shutting up is something that happens to other people. He babbles on about whatever comes to mind throughout the entire meal, only pausing to swallow down bites of food and once or twice to breathe.

 

By the time Alex hears a knock on the door at the usual time, he’s begun debating whether or not he wants to hide out in the bunker for a little piece and quiet.

 

(He doesn’t. He never sets foot in the bunker unless Michael’s off with another adult; too afraid of him wandering down and seeing some of the records of experimentation that were done on his people.)

 

Michael’s head jerks up at the sound of the knocking, and then he’s scrambling out of his seat to head in its direction. Alex lets him go, but makes him take the cereal spoon out of his mouth first.

 

“And don’t run,” he calls belatedly after him. “Every time you get bigger, you’re more likely to bowl someone over.”

 

As expected he doesn’t get an answer, but nor does he hear any sounds of distress emanating from the front room, so he calls it a win and moves on to clearing the dishes away.

 

He’s just finished wiping down the last of them, and is leaning back against the counter to catch his breath when Kyle appears in the doorway. The other man takes one look at Alex and grins.

 

“You look like those people you see on the news who survived an unexpected natural disaster,” he teases. “One second you’re fine, and then whoosh, Hurricane Michael struck in an instant.”

 

Alex shakes his head. “That’s actually not a bad comparison,” he admits. “This place has been so quiet, even with him here, I’d gotten used to it. It’s better that he’s talking though, right?” He suggests. “That’s a good sign?”

 

Kyle shrugs. “I mean, I can’t see it being a bad one?” He tries. “And physically he’s in pretty good shape, maybe a little underweight, but that’s not anything that can’t be fixed.”

 

“Mm,” Alex hums. “Where is he now?”

 

“Getting dressed, I think,” is the reply. “I don’t know if you noticed, but he was still in sleepwear when I got here.”

 

Indifferent, Alex glances down at his own ratty t-shirt and even rattier sweatpants. “He woke me up, yelled about breakfast, and the next thing I knew you were here. I did my best.”

 

He has a sneaking suspicion Kyle’s about to start laughing at him, which is why he’s grateful when Michael chooses this exact moment to reappear. He’s pulled on a shirt and a pair of jeans previously obtained by Liz, and half a chewed sucker is hanging out of his mouth as he wanders into the room.

 

“Are you guys talking about me?” He asks, voice slightly garbled since he doesn’t bother to remove said sucker before speaking.

 

“Yes,” Kyle says, not giving Alex a chance to figure out if he wants to admit that or not. “We were talking about you talking. What’s got you so chatty all of a sudden?”

 

Michael gives a full body shrug as he comes to a stop next to Alex. Cocking his head to the side, he makes a face that’s impossible to parse out, and answers without bothering turn around for Kyle. “I didn’t talk before, and then I did, so now I do.”

 

Alex can’t even begin to understand what that means. “You ... What?” A quick glance at Kyle shows him looking equally confused. “You maybe want to try that again?”

 

Michael makes a funny sound and taps the side of his head. “I remembered when I woke up this morning,” he says. “I didn’t talk when the Evanses took Max and Isobel away, and I heard one of the workers say that might be why no one wanted me, so I started. It didn’t work though.”

 

Someone makes a noise like they’ve been sucker punched, and after a moment Alex realizes it was him. Biting down on a sudden urge to grab Michael and yank him in for a hug, he tells himself not to do that without an invitation. “Did the worker tell you that directly?”

 

“Nah,” Michael replies. “She was talking to somebody else.” He doesn’t say who, and instead glances back and forth between Alex and Kyle. “How come I’m not in the group home anymore?”

 

That’s such a loaded question, Alex doesn’t know where to begin. On the other hand, it takes him a moment to realize, but they’ve finally got confirmation of a hypothesis they’ve been wanting to test for weeks now.

 

“You and Liz were right,” he tells Kyle. “He’s not just getting his age back, his memories are coming with it.” Which has to be confusing as all hell, he figures. Currently Michael’s head is telling him he should be a child of the foster care system, and before that, his earliest memories would’ve been of an entirely different planet. No wonder he’d looked at them all like he couldn’t trust them in the beginning.

 

He’s pretty sure he sees the same thought process mirrored on Kyle’s face as he steps further into the room and sits down on one of the kitchen chairs. His expression has shifted into something much more professional looking, probably the one he uses when he’s giving someone a diagnosis. 

 

“Michael, you were in an accident,” he says simply. “About two months ago you were working in a lab and something went wrong. You’re not supposed to be eight. Right now you’re behind by about twenty years.”

 

“Is that why Max and Isobel are old now?” Michael asks.

 

Alex winces. Wherever she is right now, Isobel Evans (no longer Bracken) has just felt a shot of pure rage at the thought of someone out there calling her old. Hopefully Max is able to duck.

 

Unaware of the trail Alex’s thoughts are currently meandering down, Kyle nods. “Exactly. You should be the same age as them, as all of us, but instead your body’s a little, um, let’s call it confused.”

 

Alex tries very hard to turn a snort into a cough, and Michael frowns. “If Max and Izzy are old enough to take care of me then why’d they leave me here?”

 

He says the question innocently enough, but if there’s one person on this godforsaken planet who Alex has learned to read, it’s Michael Guerin. That’s why he knows full well there’s a bundle of hurt hidden in that very loaded question.

 

“Because they’re trying to help you, and they want to keep you safe while they do it.” He starts, choosing his words carefully when Michael looks up at him. “We know someone who might be able to tell us what happened to you, but we don’t know exactly where he is, and he’s dangerous. Not someone you should be around.”

 

Michael considers this. “That still doesn’t explain why they left me with you,” he says finally, a declaration that Alex has to try very hard not to take to heart. “I didn’t even know you until they dropped me off.”

 

Kyle starts to laugh. “Oh buddy,” he says in between snickers. “You might not know him now, but you’re going to alright. Your brother and sister left you with Alex because you’re the most important person in the world to him.”

 

Michael snorts. It’s an incredibly dismissive sound, made all the more unpleasant by the fact that it’s coming from someone so young. “Sure,” he says when neither Alex nor Kyle says anything further. “Right.”

 

Kyle’s laughter fades, and he flashes Alex a worried glance over Michael’s head. Before he can say anything, however, Alex stops him with a raised hand and a wriggle of his eyebrows that he hopes conveys a message not to press the issue.

 

He must not succeed because Kyle leans back in his chair in a picture of studied nonchalance and opens his mouth. “Would you rather we put you somewhere else?” He asks. 

 

“Kyle!” Alex barks, and at the same time Michael blurts out a worried “ _ No _ ,” his shoulders going tense like he’s afraid they’re going to drag him out of the cabin right this second. 

 

Alex reaches for him on instinct, dropping both hands down on his shoulders to hold him in place. “You’re not going anywhere,” he says firmly, giving Kyle a dirty look. “Okay? I promise.”

 

“Yeah, my bad, little guy,” Kyle says sheepishly. He wilts slightly and palms the back of his neck awkwardly when Alex continues to glare at him. “That was a stupid thing to say.”

 

“You think?” Alex asks snidely. Maintaining his hold on Michael, he doesn’t miss the way the kid presses against his side, and takes it as further confirmation that they’ve managed to freak him out. “God, you’re such an asshole.”

 

“Don’t swear,” Kyle says. “It’s rude.”

 

“So is traumatizing an eight year old,” Alex shoots back.

 

Raising his hands in surrender, Kyle gives Michael an apologetic look. “Sorry,” he says. “Won’t happen again. And you’re not going anywhere,” he adds. “Unless it’s back to Isobel when she and Max are done playing bounty hunter.”

 

Since they’ve barely heard anything from the Evanses in the past week and a half, Alex isn’t going to hold his breath for that happening anytime soon. Both siblings had sounded frustrated to say the least at their last check in. 

 

Deciding he’s put his foot in his mouth enough for one day, Alex kicks Kyle out not long after that, wanting to see if they can at least salvage the afternoon. He and Michael wind up watching movies on the couch, with Michael alternating between commenting on the films and drawing scribbles in a notebook he’s dug out from somewhere.

 

Alex idly notes that they’re more alien symbols, but since for once they’re not being plastered all over his walls, he doesn’t really care.

 

They have reheated pizza for supper, and then it’s more movies because neither of them seems to have the energy for anything else. Eventually, Alex deems it to be bed time, and quietly guides a tired looking Michael down the hallway. 

 

“I do like you,” Michael tells him unexpectedly. He’s standing at the sink, trying to brush his teeth despite the height still being a little awkward for him, and Alex winces when he spits foam onto the counter.

 

“Hmm?” He asks distractedly, glancing around for a cloth. “What was that?”

 

“I said I do like you,” Michael repeats, shrugging like it’s no big deal when Alex raises an eyebrow at him. “In case you were worried earlier that I don’t. You’re nice.”

 

Alex swallows around a sudden lump in his throat. “Well, thank you,” he says finally, proud when he doesn’t stutter. “I like you too.”

 

Michael nods solemnly and goes back to his toothbrush.

 

*****

 

One thing Alex forgets when Michael first starts speaking again is just how good he is at sweet talking people into giving him what he wants. It’s bad enough when he’s grown and has years of practice, but matched with the adorable facade he’s currently sporting, it’s damn near impossible to resist.

 

Which is why Alex is at least mildly understanding when Liz calls him frantically one afternoon and insists that he leave what he’s doing to come find her. Only mildly, however.

 

Having dropped Michael off with her early in the morning, he’s spent most of the day in his dad’s bunker, pouring over some of the record’s he hasn’t yet had a chance to get to. A quick glance at the clock tells him it’s just past two, and after six hours spent hunched over a computer screen, this is the last thing he wants.

 

On the other hand, Michael’s with her, and if anything happens to him Alex will never forgive himself. That’s why he’s already halfway out the door before he can blink. “What happened?” He asks as he stomps towards his car. “And where are you?”

 

“I think it’s better if I explain it when you get here,” Liz replies, she’s breathing heavily, not unlike someone on the verge of a panic attack, and Alex’s stomach lurches unpleasantly. “But we’re at the Pony.” 

 

Alex stumbles mid-stride. “What the hell are you doing there?”

 

“I don’t want to say over the phone. Just get here, okay? God!” She then switches into Spanish, none of which is meant for polite company, and clicks her phone off all while still ranting on the other end of the line.

 

“Jesus Christ,” Alex groans. Stuffing his phone into the pocket of his jeans, he scrambles up into his rig and jams the key in the ignition. Pulling out of the lot with more force than necessary, he sets off at a speed that’s decidedly above the local limit, trying not to think about how often he’s done so lately.

 

Given the early hour, the Pony is closed when he comes to a stop in the parking lot. Positive Liz wouldn’t have told him to come here for no reason, he looks around for her vehicle but doesn’t see it. Trying to convince himself not to panic, he heads for the bar’s entrance, and knocks heavily on the locked door.

 

It’s hauled open almost immediately by Maria, who levels him with the kind of glare he hasn’t seen since he’d told her he was doing as his father wanted and enlisting. They stand there for several long moments until Maria clicks her tongue.

 

“I see you’re also on the list of my so-called friends who’ve been lying to me for years,” she says icily. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, you love keeping me in the dark where Guerin’s concerned.”

 

Alex is he pretty sure he does a full body wince. “Maria, I -“

 

“Save it,” holding up a hand to forestall his bumbling efforts to speak, she gestures for him to come inside. “The front parking lot is not the place for this conversation. Come with me.”

 

Nodding, Alex does as he’s told. He waits for a second as Maria carefully re-locks the door, and then trails after he to the bar’s interior.

 

As promised, both Liz and Michael are already here, the pair of them sitting at a table where Liz has her head in her hands and Michael’s kicking his feet the way he does when he’s nervous. Though that stops the second he spots Alex, and he rockets out of his chair and across the room before anyone can stop him.

 

The resulting collision nearly knocks Alex to the floor, and he finds it hard to breathe as Michael clings to him in a surprisingly strong grip. Carefully hugging him back, he looks to the two women for an explanation. “What happened?”

 

“What happened?” Maria repeats, her tone on the wrong side of vicious. “I’ll tell you what happened. I got fed some bullshit story about Guerin and the Evans twins going off to help Isobel recover after the shock of losing her husband when it really turns out that all four of them, including the apparently evil and not dead husband, are goddamned aliens and the Evanses are off looking for Bracken on the off chance he knows a way to fix the fact that Guerin’s managed to de-age himself back into childhood. That’s what fucking happened!”

 

She stands their panting, her posture practically screaming hurt, confusion, and anger all in one, and all Alex can do is stare helplessly back at her. When that doesn’t help, he turns to Liz. “You told her?!”

 

“I didn’t think I had a choice,” Liz says, her voice coming out muffled. “She saw him on the street and recognized him right away. She knew it was Michael!”

 

“Oh please!” Maria snorts and flings her hands into the air. “You think my mind went straight to ‘weird alien conspiracy/accident’?! I just figured he was Guerin’s spawn from an illegitimate teen pregnancy!”

 

“Oh man,” Liz moans from where she’s still sitting with her face buried in her hands. “That would have been a way better excuse.”

 

Alex needs a drink. First, however, he needs to make sure Michael’s okay. Forcing himself to remain calm, he grips Michael’s shoulders, gently easing him back far enough to get a good look at his face.

 

He doesn’t like what he finds. Michael’s eyes are welling up with tears, the first few drops threatening to spill over while his lower lip trembles and his breathing hitches. He doesn’t say anything, but Alex can practically feel the distress radiating off him as the boy clutches two handfuls of his sweater in his fists.

 

“Michael,” he says carefully, unsure of how to handle this. “Michael, it’s okay. You’re not in trouble.”

 

That’s apparently the wrong thing to say. Finally losing the battle against the tears, Michael sobs harshly and buries his face in Alex’s chest, once again clinging to him for all he’s worth.

 

“I’m sorry,” he chokes, the words muffled by the fabric of Alex’s shirt. “I know we’re supposed to be careful about getting caught, but I was hungry and Liz didn’t have any food in the lab and I didn’t want to wait anymore, so I bugged her until she said we could go find something. That’s when the lady saw me and freaked out. I didn’t mean for it to happen though!”

 

“Of course you didn’t,” Alex agrees, rubbing a soothing hand over his back. “It was an accident, and not a huge one either. Maria was just surprised is all, and sometimes people overreact when they’re surprised, right?”

 

He aims this last word at Maria, along with a pleading gaze he hopes will see her calm down. “Right?” He says again, this time a little more desperately when she doesn’t respond.

 

That seems to do it. Shaking her head as if to clear it, Maria breathes out heavily through her nose and straightens to her full height. “Right,” she says in a tone considerably more calm and conciliatory than she’d previously been using. “Of course. I was surprised. Very, very surprised.”

 

“And not mad,” Alex stresses, not breaking eye contact with her, “or going to tell anyone about this. Isn’t that true?”

 

“Of course I’m not going to tell anyone,” Maria snaps, and Alex winces when Michael hiccups louder. “Shit, sorry.”

 

Alex ignores her in favour of concentrating on Michael, rocking him in his arms and murmuring words of comforting nonsense on the off chance it’ll do any good. Thankfully, it seems to, and slowly but surely Michael’s shaking starts to relax.

 

“That’s it,” Alex says, relieved. “It’s okay, you’re okay. Everything’s going to be fine. Here, let me see you.” Curling his hands around Michael’s chin, he carefully tilts his head up until they can look at each other. “I’ve got you, I promise.”

 

Michael snuffles wetly, but at the same time he nods, willing to take Alex’s words at face value. “Sorry,” he says, voice rough.

 

About to tell him he has nothing to apologize for, Alex is mildly surprised when Maria beats him to the punch. “Christ, Guerin, don’t be sorry. For once in your life you’re not the one who screwed up here.”

 

“And for the record,” she adds when Alex frowns at her, “that person would be me.” Sidling over to the nearest table, she rips a handful of napkins out of the dispenser atop it, holding them out to Michael like a peace offering.

 

“Go on, take them,” she says, shaking them for emphasis as Michael simply stares at her. “Alex isn’t gonna want you wiping that snotty mess you’ve got going on their all over his shirt.”

 

Alex honestly could care less about that if it makes Michael feel better, but he lets out a sigh of relief when Michael reaches out to accept the napkins with a tentative smile. He mouths a quick ‘thanks’ at Maria over the top of Michael’s head.

 

She nods briskly, watching Michael for a moment or two, until he’s mostly done drying his eyes. “Damn,” she says, “I’ve heard and seen some strange crap come through my door, but Guerin being an honest to god alien is something else. Never mind the whole ... shrinking thing.”

 

“I didn’t shrink,” Michael says firmly, “I regressed in age. Kyle says there’s a difference. Also, my name is Michael, not Guerin.”

 

All three adults stare at him for probably longer than is appropriate, and then Maria snorts. “Kyle? As in Kyle Valenti?” Throwing up her arms when Alex and Liz both nod, she fixes them both with a hefty scowl. “I can’t believe he got to know before me. The man is an idiot.”

 

“Kyle’s my friend,” Michael says hotly, any and all fear of Maria apparently forgotten in his rush to defend their missing member. “And he’s a doctor! That means he’s smart.”

 

“Spoken like someone who’s never seen him try to do a keg stand,” she says dryly. “Okay, okay,” she continues as Michael levels her with a look that could curdle milk. “Valenti’s not entirely useless, you’re right. It’s still not fair that he got to know before me though. Is he the last one?”

 

“Jenna Cameron,” Liz admits. “She was on patrol with Max the night it happened, and she, uh, caught on to the whole alien thing a while before that.”

 

“Makes sense,” Maria admits. “So the four of you have been looking after Curly Sue here while the Evanses are off trying to figure out a way to get him back to normal? That’s the dream team right there.”

 

“We’ve been doing alright,” Alex says defensively. Almost without thinking about it, he tucks Michael more tightly against his side. “A couple weeks in and he’s fine.”

 

“Maybe so,” Maria replies breezily, “but you could have been doing even better with me onboard. For instance, I figure I’m the only person who realizes my interrupting him and Liz outside means this kid still hasn’t eaten.”

 

As if on cue, Michael’s stomach rumbles. “What?” He asks when all eyes turn to stare at him. “She’s right!”

 

“Of course I am,” Maria says with a wink. “So here’s what we’re going to do. You three are going to grab yourselves a table and take some time to calm down, while I head out back and see what’s in the kitchen. How’s that sound?”

 

“Like you’ve got everything sorted out as per usual,” Liz says dryly, and all Alex can do is nod his head in agreement.

 

Maria’s answering grin is a little wobbly, but no less genuine for all that. “Damn straight I do,” she agrees, and then she heads for the back room without another word.

 

It’s quiet in the bar for a few seconds, until Alex feels someone tugging at his sleeve and looks down to find Michael gazing up at him. “I like her.”

 

Alex laughs. “You have no idea.”

 

*****

 

When they get home that night, Alex insists on reaching out to the Evans twins to bring them up to speed on this latest development. Normally they wait for them to call, never sure it’s entirely safe to reach out while the pair are on the hunt for Noah, but he feels that today’s extenuating circumstances are enough to justify breaking protocol.

 

Isobel’s voice is tiny and far away when she finally picks up, the phone cutting in and out in a manner that suggests the signal is especially poor.

 

Neither she nor Max are especially pleased by the idea of yet another person knowing their secret, but both aliens agree that as far as choices go, Maria’s hardly the worst. Then they each take turns chatting with Michael before deciding it’s time to go. They promise to call again in a few days, and to let them know right away if anything new develops.

 

Mentally and physically exhausted, Alex convinces Michael to turn in early for once, and proceeds to collapse into his own bed, feeling like a man who hasn’t slept in days, yet at the same time feeling like they might actually make it through this. If he can handle having to explain the truth about aliens to Maria, he thinks, he can handle anything. So long as no more weirdness develops from this age regression stuff, they’ve got this.

 

He holds onto that belief for a while. Right up until week eleven rolls around.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this chapter focuses on some of Michael’s tougher years. There is mention of past abuses and some description of injuries. I don’t think it’s enough to have to up the story rating, but I do want to note it in case anyone is uncomfortable.
> 
> As well, thank you all for the lovely feedback to date. You’ve been wonderful!

Alex catapults up out of bed before he’s even fully awake. The move is entirely one of instinct, as is the way he grabs his nearest crutch and lurches towards Michael’s room without a second thought.

 

Michael’s stopped screaming by the time Alex reaches him, but his harsh pants echo out into the hallway despite the fact that his door is closed. Without a second thought, Alex hauls it open and slams his hand down on the light switch, thereby illuminating the shaking figure huddled in the middle of the bed.

 

“God, Michael, what is it? What happened?” Stumbling forward, Alex lands heavily on the side of the bed, his heart freezing when jostling the mattress makes Michael yowl. “Damnit, Michael! Where are you hurt?”

 

Because he has to be hurt. Alex has seen plenty of people caught up in night terrors before, and that’s not what this is. Michael is in actual, physical pain, the kind that has nothing to do with the memory of an old injury.

 

He reaches for him, even manages to get one hand on his shoulder, but that instantly makes the boy pull away like he’s been burned and curl further in on himself. He’s protecting his left side, Alex can tell, specifically his left arm, keeping it pressed tightly against his stomach while his right arm covers it up.

 

Alex barely resists the urge to yank at his own hair. He can’t let Michael see how panicked he is, he has to stay calm, or he risks making things worse. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he sucks in as much air as he can before letting it out slowly.

 

“Michael, you have to let me see it,” he says firmly. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

 

Michael shakes his head, the motion harsh enough that it manages to dislodge sweaty curls that are plastered to his forehead. “I don’t want you to touch it. It’ll just make it hurt worse.”

 

“I promise that’s not going to happen,” Alex vows, “but I need you to let me  _ see _ . Please, Michael.”

 

His breathing still ragged, Michael eyes him warily for several long seconds before he starts slowly unfurling out of the position he’s contorted himself into. Then he stretches out his left arm, and Alex hisses at what he finds there.

 

There’s a painful looking burn shaped like a cross seared into Michael’s skin. It spans half the length of his forearm, and is clearly, desperately in need of medical attention.

 

“Michael,” Alex breathes. “What did you do?”

 

“It wasn’t me,” Michael chokes, trying to draw the limb back before Alex can stop him. “It was the priest.”

 

“Priest?” Alex echoes, starting to become as confused as he is alarmed. “What priest?”

 

“The priest who came to the group home,” Michael whimpers. “The one who did the exorcism because I can move things without touching them.”

 

Alex feels like he’s going to be sick. “You didn’t hurt yourself on something in the house,” he says, realization dawning. “This happened to you in the past. Your actual past.”

 

“Right,” Michael nods shakily. “In the group home when I got sent back to Roswell.”

 

Alex dimly remembers Michael telling him he’d been placed with religious lunatics upon his return to town. He’d never elaborated on what that meant, and Alex had never asked; something he’s regretting right about now.

 

He forces himself to take another deep breath. “Okay, ignoring for a moment the implication of what this means going forward, we can’t leave your arm like it is. Let’s get you into the bathroom for now, and I’m going to call Kyle.”

 

“Kyle’s probably in bed,” Michael points out.

 

“He’ll survive me waking him up,” Alex replies. Beckoning Michael forward with one hand, he watches him carefully ease himself out of bed, and gently turns him towards the door. “Come on. We’ll wrap it up while we wait for him.”

 

Michael moves forward carefully, like he’s walking on eggshells, but he makes it to the bathroom without incident. Meanwhile, Alex is right behind him, detouring only briefly to grab his phone from his nightstand.

 

The phone rings through to voicemail the first time around, but Alex doesn’t bother to leave a message. Instead, he calls right back, determined to do so as many times as necessary until Kyle picks up.

 

Luckily, they’re good this time. The phone stops on the third ring, and the next thing he hears is Kyle’s voice offering up a sleepy “H’lo?”

 

Alex doesn’t beat around the bush. “I need you to get out to my place right away,” he says crisply. “Bring whatever you need to treat a burn.”

 

“....’Lex?”

 

Alex sighs heavily. “Look alive, Valenti. Aren’t doctor’s supposed to be good at springing into action for nights when they’re on call? I said I need you out here. Now!”

 

“Okay, okay.” Finally sounding at least a little coherent, Kyle lets out a yawn lengthy enough that Alex considers timing it. “You said something about a burn? What’d you do to yourself?”

 

“Not me,” Alex clarifies, “Michael.” He eyes the boy in question where he’s perched on the closed lid of the toilet seat, gingerly cradling his wounded arm. “It’ll take too long to explain though. Just get out here.”

 

“I’m already on my way,” Kyle assures him, and now he sounds entirely awake. “How bad is the burn? Is the skin broken anywhere?”

 

Alex motions for Michael to let him see his arm, which he does with obvious reluctance. “No,” Alex says after he’s raked his eyes over every part of the injury. “Not from what I can tell anyway.”

 

“That’s good,” Kyle says. “That means it’s a lesser degree burn. Run a cloth under water, make sure it’s lukewarm, not actually cold, and then wrap it up if you can. It’ll take the edge off until I get there.”

 

“Okay. Thanks, Kyle,” Alex says, already turning to the tiny linen closet and the few threadbare cloths he keeps there.

 

Kyle snorts on the other end of the line, and Alex is pretty sure he hears the sound of a car starting up in the background. “Nothing to thank me for. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Leave the door open for me, yeah?”

 

“We both know you made yourself a key,” Alex grumbles, but he nevertheless goes to do exactly that as soon as he has Michael’s arm covered with a wet cloth. As far as he’s concerned the less delay Kyle has in getting in the better, even if it is one as minuscule as this is likely to be.

 

“Kyle’s on his way,” he tells Michael, settling down awkwardly on the edge of the tub once he’s finished. “I’m sure he’ll have something to make you feel better.”

 

Michael nods and plasters a weak smile on his face. “Did he sound cranky about you waking him up?”

 

“Not at all,” Alex promises. It’s the truth, but even if it hadn’t been, he’d have offered up a little white lie regardless. Michael doesn’t need anything adding to his problems tonight.

 

Feeling suddenly awkward, he searches for a topic that’s safer than the one they’ve been heading towards. “You got taller again,” he notes, taking a moment to examine the differences between ages ten and eleven. “Although, not as much as we anticipated.”

 

“Guess not,” Michael mumbles, tugging slightly at his still too big nightshirt. “Maybe I’ll have a growth spurt later.”

 

He definitely will, Alex knows. Michael’s small for his age right now, but at some point, sooner or later, he’s got to shoot up to reach the height he has as an adult. “Maybe,” is all he says, however. “How’s your arm feel?”

 

“It’s okay,” Michael says quickly. “The cloth is helping a lot.”

 

“Mhm,” Alex watches him adjust said cloth minutely, barely resisting the urge to do it himself. “We’re going to get it all taken care of, don’t worry.”

 

“I know,” Michael replies, and Alex has to fight down a sudden urge to wince. He sounds so trusting, like he’s sure Alex will keep his promise, when he never should have had to go through this at all. “You’ll make it better.”

 

They sit there quietly for a long time, both of them waiting for the eventual sound of Kyle’s car pulling up. Finally, after what feels like hours, that’s exactly what happens, and it’s quickly followed by the sound of feet on gravel, then on the front porch.

 

“We’re in here,” Alex calls when he hears Kyle say his name. “Down in the bathroom.”

 

“Probably should have expected that.” Kyle’s voice gets louder as he drifts closer to them, his footsteps echoing throughout the otherwise empty house. “I brought everything we should need, but if the burn is worse than you made it sound, we might need to take him to the hospital.”

 

Michael jolts at that, his eyes going wide as he shakes his head furiously. “No hospital,” he says instantly. “Max says we can’t ever go there because they might scan us and find out we’re different.”

 

He’s starting to get worked up, and without thinking, Alex reaches out to take his good hand in one of his. “It’s okay,” he promises. “If we do have to take you in, Kyle and I won’t let anything happen to you.”

 

“Damn straight,” Kyle agrees from where he’s now standing in the bathroom doorway. His hair is completely askew, and it’s obvious he’d simply shoved his feet into the nearest pair of boots and thrown his coat on over whatever shirt he’d worn to bed. He looks the very definition of sleep rumpled. “Now, what’s going on? I wasn’t expecting to see you guys for at least six more hours.”

 

At Alex’s nod, Michael carefully peels away the facecloth, and holds up his arm for Kyle to see. “It was there when I woke up.”

 

Kyle sucks in a breath when he sees the shape of the cross, visibly recoiling at the sight of it. “What the f-! Manes, this is not what I thought you meant.”

 

“You and me both,” Alex grunts. He catches Michael’s eye, and it takes him all of a second to determine this isn’t the time to get into it. “I’ll explain later, but for now can you focus on him, please?”

 

“Of course,” Kyle says, and Alex can practically see the moment he shifts into attending physician mode. “Let’s take a look there, buddy.”

 

Michael grabs for Alex’s hand again when Kyle begins his examination, and he maintains his grip throughout the entire process, baring up remarkably well as Kyle first cleans, then treats, and finally wraps the wound in a sturdy white gauze to keep it protected.

 

“Okay,” Kyle says, once he’s snipped the gauze free from the rest of the roll and locked it down with two strips of adhesive tape. “All done. How’s that feel?”

 

“Better,” Michael assures him, twisting his arm slightly to admire Kyle’s handiwork. “A lot better, thanks.” Then he grins slyly. “Now where’s my sucker?”

 

Kyle barks out a laugh. “Oh yeah, you’re going to be fine.”

 

*****

 

Kyle leaves not long after that, shooting a few furtive glances over his shoulder at Alex as he goes. He wants to talk about the injury it’s clear, but Michael’s fading fast now that the adrenaline seems to have worn off, and if Alex is being honest, so too is he.

 

It’s pushing 6:00 in the morning, and Michael climbs back into bed with little fuss. He’s careful not to jar his arm as he moves, but Alex finds himself idly wondering if they shouldn’t maybe strap it down in a sling as he straightens the covers around him. 

 

“How’s that?” He asks. The sheets and blankets had gotten all twisted up, no doubt from Michael’s thrashing when he’d first woken, but now he’s lying there quietly, his bandaged arm resting carefully atop them.

 

“It’s good,” Michael says simply. “Thank you.”

 

He keeps being so polite; Alex doesn’t quite know what to make of it. Telling himself to stop reading things into the situation, he tugs the blankets up to Michael’s chin, effectively tucking him in. 

 

“I’m going back to bed to try and get a couple more hours sleep.” He doesn’t have to work today, a fact that feels like an actual godsend after the morning they’ve already had. “You should do the same, but call if you need me.”

 

“I will,” Michael promises, though whether or not it’s for the sake of appearances, Alex can’t tell. “Good night. Or morning, I guess.”

 

Alex huffs our a quiet laugh before giving in to the urge to lean down and press a quick kiss to his forehead. “I’m glad you’re alright,” he murmurs, brushing some stray curls out of Michael’s eyes. “I hate seeing you hurt.”

 

He’s not sure, but he thinks he hears a faint ‘Why?’ as he exits the room.

 

*****

 

Understandably, given the night they’d had, they sleep late. Alex finds himself crawling out of bed around 11 o’clock, and it’s at least another half hour or so before he hears the telltale sounds of Michael moving around in his room.

 

Alex has already eaten by the time he emerges, and he gives him a surreptitious once over from where he’s sitting in the living room. “How’re you feeling?” He asks softly.

 

“M’okay,” is the mumbled response. “Kinda hungry, though.”

 

Relieved, Alex stands and heads for the kitchen, hooking an arm around Michael’s shoulders to steer him in the same direction as he passes by. “I’m sure we can fix that. What do you feel like?”

 

Kyle texts him while he’s wiping down the countertop. Pulling his phone free from his back pocket with one hand, he keeps cleaning with the other as he takes a peek at the screen.

 

_ You should take him to see Liz _ . It reads.  _ Maybe she can figure out what’s going on. _

 

Alex bites his lip as he considers the suggestion. On the one hand, he doesn’t feel like doing much of anything today, up to and including moving. On the other, if Liz can figure out why Michael randomly sported a childhood injury following this switchover, that’s probably not a bad thing.

 

Keeping half an eye focused on where Michael’s munching away at his breakfast, he shoots Liz off a quick text.  _ You in the lab today? _

 

He gets a response almost right away, which he isn’t expecting.  _ Sure am! Why? You need a babysitter? _

 

_ Not exactly _ . Alex replies.  _ But I’d like to bring him by. That okay with you?  _ He doesn’t want to spell out the details of what’s happened quite yet, but he will if Liz presses.

 

Luckily, she doesn’t.  _ No problem! I’ll leave the door open for when you get here. _

 

Alex contents himself to responding with only a thumbs up emoji, and then tucks his phone away in his pocket as he goes to sit down. Propping his elbows on the table, he proceeds to watch Michael eat until he looks up with a curious glance.

 

“What?” He asks around a mouthful of eggs. “I got something on my face?”

 

“No,” Alex laughs. “You’re good. How would you feel about popping by Liz’s today?”

 

Michael eyes him suspiciously. “Because of last night?”

 

“Yes,” Alex replies, not wanting to beat around the bush. “That’s never happened before, and I’d like to see if she has any theories.”

 

Michael taps his fork against his plate a few times, considering. His gaze starts briefly to where the white gauze bandage stands out starkly against his skin, and he shrugs. “Whatever, I guess.”

 

It’s not exactly a ringing endorsement, but Alex will take it. Breathing out a quiet sigh of relief, he decides to stay here while he waits for Michael to finish eating. “Okay,” he says more to the table top than anything else. “We’ll head out as soon as you’re ready.”

 

*****

 

Because of the late start to their morning - or early, depending on how you want to look at it - it’s well into the afternoon before they get to the lab. Alex pulls into his usual parking spot, and is already halfway around the truck when he notices Michael balk at getting out.

 

“You okay?” He asks worriedly, wondering if he’s bumped his arm or something similar.

 

Still sitting in the cab of the truck, Michael chews nervously at his bottom lip. He eyes the front door of the hospital warily, like he’s not sure if it’s safe to go inside. “What if she wants to run tests on me?”

 

It wouldn’t be the first time, Alex thinks, but Michael doesn’t know that since for him it hasn’t technically happened yet. “Liz won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he says slowly, “and I’d never let her if she tried.”

 

The words are entirely unnecessary because Alex knows with every fibre of his being just how seriously Liz takes her promise to protect Michael and his siblings, but they make Michael meet his eye so it’s worth it. 

 

They stand there silently for several long moments until, eventually, Michael nods. Once. It’s a short, sharp jerk of his head, and when Alex offers him a hand to help him out of the truck, he doesn’t let go even after he’s on solid ground.

 

That’s unusual. At eleven, Michael’s well past the point where he needs to be led everywhere goes. On the other hand, if it makes him feel better, who is Alex to complain?

 

No one pays them any attention as they walk through the halls towards their destination, and when they reach the door to Liz’s lab twin sounds of matching laughter echo out into the hallway. It seems she’s not alone in there.

 

That fact is confirmed when Alex pushes open the door and finds Maria sitting behind one of the tables, idly spinning on a stool. Liz meanwhile is parked over by her microscope, struggling to get a slide underneath it.

 

“Damn thing really does need to be replaced - oh, hey guys,” she says when she spots them. “We were just wondering when you two would be stopping by. What’s up?”

 

“Uh,” Alex says awkwardly. He casts a glance over at Maria, wondering if he can somehow subtly imply he was hoping not to have an audience for this conversation. “Nothing,” he continues lamely. “What’re you two doing?”

 

“Lunch date,” Maria replies, nodding to where a pile of detritus from the Crashdown signals what they’d been eating. “Sometimes it’s a struggle to get this one out from behind her beakers, so I come to her.”

 

“Is there any left?” Michael asks, as if he hadn’t had breakfast all of an hour ago. He eyes the wrappers eagerly as Maria leans over to prod through them.

 

“Pretty sure Liz didn’t finish her fries,” she says thoughtfully. “You want ‘em?”

 

“Yeah!” Finally letting go of Alex’s hand, Michael hops over to the table and scrambles up onto the stool next to her, smacking his good arm against the surface in the process.

 

Alex winces at the sound. “Michael, be careful.”

 

Michael just shrugs and holds up both his arms. “It wasn’t the bad one,” he says, holding them out for everyone to see. “I’m fine.”

 

Both Liz and Maria frown at the sight of his bandaged limb, Maria even going so far as to reach out as if she’s about to run a finger over it. “What’d you do to yourself, Guerin?”

 

Already stuffing one of his rescued fries in his mouth, Michael shrugs. “Wasn’t me,” he says, thankfully after he’s chewed and swallowed. “A priest did it.”

 

“A priest?” Maria repeats, and Liz’s frown deepens as she steps closer to Michael’s other side. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Michael says loftily. He really doesn’t like it when people don’t seem to get what he says. “The lady who runs the group home asked him to come in and ‘expel my demons’,” here he holds up the most sarcastic set of air quotes Alex has ever seen, “and he burned me with a cross. At least I had Alex and Kyle to help me with it this time, though. The last time I had to wrap it up by myself.”

 

It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop in the lab. The only noise is suddenly the quiet rustling of the wrapper as Michael pulls a few more fries free. “What?”

 

Maria’s the one who finds her voice first. “Alex,” she says, her tone vicious as she slowly rotates her seat to pierce him with a stare, “what is he talking about?”

 

Alex sighs. “That’s why we’re here,” he says, running a hand tiredly through his hair as he turns an imploring look on Liz. “He didn’t just get a growth spurt and some recovered memories this time around. He got an injury that happened seventeen years ago.”

 

“That’s not possible,” Liz says, but Alex just looks at her.

 

“It shouldn’t be possible,” he admits, “but it’s also what happened. He woke up screaming in the middle of the night, and when I got to him, he had a burn spanning the entire length of his forearm that wasn’t there when he went to sleep.”

 

“And I remember getting it,” Michael adds helpfully. “The priest got really mad when I wouldn’t tell him how I make stuff move, and then BAM! Got me right on the arm.”

 

He sounds so blasé about it, Alex feels sick; something he suspects he shares with Liz and Maria if the looks on their faces are anything to go by. As he watches, Maria reaches out to tug at a stray curl.

 

“Michael,” she says softly, like she’s afraid of spooking him. “You understand that what the priest did was wrong, don’t you? He should never have hurt you like this.”

 

To his credit, Michael rolls his eyes. “No, duh. I was just minding my own business, and they all thought I was a freak.”

 

“Oh, sweetie, you are,” Maria says with a laugh, “but in the best way possible. We wouldn’t change you for anything.”

 

“I’m reminding him you said that once he’s grown,”Liz mutters. “Just in case he doesn’t remember by himself.”

 

Maria flaps a dismissive hand in her direction, too busy giving Michael a careful hug to come up with a proper retort.

 

Alex watches Michael eye her warily before finally settling into her embrace. He knows from experience that Michael likes physical affection, but at the same time doesn’t really trust it. Given that he’s had Alex, Kyle, and now Maria cuddling him in a less than twelve hour span, he could be getting a little overwhelmed.

 

About to say as much, he stops when he feels a light touch on his arm. Looking down, he finds Liz’s hand resting at the crook of his elbow. She gives him a thoughtful look, her lips pursed, then nods towards the far corner of her lab. Figuring she wants at least some illusion of privacy, he lets her lead him back there while Maria continues fussing over Michael.

 

“Yeah?” He asks when they’re far enough away for Liz’s liking. “What do you want to know?”

 

“He seriously woke up injured?” She asks, her dark eyes troubled. “You’re positive he didn’t somehow manage to hurt himself when you weren’t looking?”

 

Alex gives her a very long look, making her wince. “Right,” she says, blowing a heavy breath out through her nose. “You’re always looking. God, how many more insane twists is this thing going to have?”

 

“I wish I knew,” Alex replies. Steeling himself, he asks his own question that he suspects he already knows the answer to. “Have you heard anything recent from Max and Isobel?”

 

Liz’s expression shutters. “No,” she says tightly. “Not since the last time.”

 

Alex bites back a groan and runs his hands through his hair. “We need answers,” he declares. “Mainly what’s happening, and why is it happening now? He doesn’t need more shit to deal with.”

 

“I agree,” Liz says, “but if this is what we get then we need to address it. They’re extremely healthy people, they never get sick. Maybe this was the first physical trauma he ever received.”

 

“No, that can’t be it,” Alex says without thinking. “He was dealing with shitty foster situations as soon the twins were adopted. Adult Michael told me as much ages ago.”

 

Liz bares her teeth, the image such that Alex feels an unexpected swell of pity should she ever manage to get her hands on the people responsible for this. Then again, he’d like to have a few words with them himself. “How nice.”

 

“On the other hand,” she says, her expression smoothing out, “a shitty home life doesn’t necessarily equate to a physically violent one. There’s one way to know for sure.”

 

Alex follows her gaze back to where Michael and Maria are sitting with their heads together. He swallows heavily. “Do we have to? It’s not like any of us are going to be able to predict what might come next. Max and Isobel, maybe, but not us.”

 

“We need to know,” she says firmly, and before Alex can stop her, she’s making her way back to the table, taking the stool planted at Michael’s other side.

 

Michael gives her a stink eye, clearly knowing something is up. “What?”

 

Liz bites her lip, suddenly looking nervous. “Michael, I’m going to ask you something, and, while I know you might not want to talk about it, I need you to be honest with me, okay?”

 

“Okayyy,” Michael says, drawing the word out and looking suspicious. “What is it?”

 

Liz stretches out her hand to lightly tap Michael’s bandaged arm. “Was this first time somebody hurt you? Or were there others?”

 

“Huh? Oh, you mean like an adult?” Michael shrugs. “Nah, this guy was the first. I used to get into fights with some of the other kids sometimes, but I always won.”

 

He sounds stupidly proud of that, Alex notes, just like he will as an adult. Liz, however, isn’t done pressing. “You’re sure? Nobody did anything to you that they shouldn’t have? That was wrong?”

 

Now Michael looks evasive. “Like what?”

 

Liz gives him a long look. “Like hitting you,” she says flatly. “Or more burns. Or - or anything.”

 

“Anything?” Michael repeats, and it’s like the three adults in the room are suddenly, collectively holding their breath. He starts to fidget. “Um, maybe?”

 

He quiets after that, and it’s not until Maria puts an encouraging hand on his shoulder that he speaks again. “The first time the group home tried to put me somewhere it was with a couple who did drugs.”

 

“They never touched me,” he’s quick to assure them, “but they’d shoot up and act all crazy. They used to fight with each other all the time.”

 

Faintly, Alex hears a much older Michael in his head.

 

_ First it was a couple of angry meth heads in Albuquerque. _

 

“I told the social worker, and they moved me to a different city, with a lady who drank all the time. She didn’t touch me either, but she yelled a lot, and sometimes she’d throw things. One time I had to use my tk to stop a bottle from hitting me.”

 

_ Then a violent drunk in Santa Fe. _

 

“I told the social workers about her too,” Michael explains, “but she was smarter than the first set. She’d hide her stuff and clean up before anyone came over. At least until she got arrested for drinking and driving, anyway.”

 

“And after that?” Maria prods when he stops speaking. “Where did you go next?”

 

“Back to Roswell. In with religious extremists,” Alex says before Michael has a chance. 

 

“How’d you know that?” Michael asks, his nose wrinkling. “Did old me tell you?”

 

“Yes,” Alex confirms, “he left out the part about the exorcism though.”

 

“I can’t imagine why,” Maria says dryly. Almost absently, she rocks Michael in her arms again. “Either way, you’re never going back with those people again.”

 

She says the words like a vow, one Michael seems to accept at face value. For his part, however, Alex is still worried. If Liz is right and this represents the first injury Michael’s ever sustained, what’s to keep later hurts from reappearing as well?

 

Glancing over at Liz, he’s pretty sure he sees the same fears mirrored in her eyes.

 

***** 

 

On the first morning of week fourteen, Alex finds those fears realized. He comes into the kitchen to find Michael already up and pouring himself some cereal. He has his back to him, which Alex doesn’t initially think anything of, but then he notices the kid’s shoulders are shaking, which causes him to lean forward.

 

“Jesus, Michael!”

 

Michael flinches, but determinedly keeps preparing his breakfast. “It’s fine,” he says, the motion pulling at the skin of his split lip. “I’m fine.”

 

“You are not,” Alex snaps. He starts to reach out to tug Michael around to face him, only to realize that might be a bad idea. Michael’s wearing jeans and a heavy dark sweater that’s got to be making him overheat given the temperature out. Chances are good that means he’s trying to hide more marks. “Turn and let me see you.”

 

“Please,” he adds softly when Michael just keeps staring straight ahead. “I need to know what happened.”

 

“Drunk foster father,” Michael grits out. “Arlington was his name. I lived with him and his wife for seven months right before I started high school.”

 

“I will find him and kick his ass if he’s still alive,” Alex promises, never having meant anything more. “Now, turn around. Please.”

 

With a sigh, Michael pushes away from the counter and does so. He stumbles slightly as he rotates, making Alex worry he’s worse off than he’d first thought, but then he straightens up and gazes at him defiantly, as if daring him to comment.

 

It’s in that gaze that Alex sees the first real glimpse of the hardbent man he’s going to become, the one with the chip on his shoulder who lashes out preemptively so the rest of the world can’t do it first.

 

“Oh, Michael,” Alex says miserably. He knows what a thorough beating looks like, having been on the receiving end of more than a few himself. Along with his lip, Michael has a bunch of cuts on his forehead, his nose was definitely bleeding at some point, and his left eye is swelling shut. “I’m sorry.”

 

Michael shrugs stiffly. “Not your fault,” he says. “You didn’t do anything.”

 

“Maybe not,” Alex admits, “but I’m going to this time.” He gestures towards the kitchen table and the spot Michael’s long since claimed as his own. “Sit down. I’m gonna grab the first aid kit and see about cleaning you up.”

 

“I already cleaned away the blood,” Michael says defensively, “and the sheets are in the wash from where I got some on them. It’s fine.”

 

Something feels like it cracks inside Alex’s chest. “It’s not fine, Michael,” he insists. “Not at all. Please sit down. I’ll beg if I have to.”

 

Michael’s good eye widens, and he almost bites his bottom lip the way he does when he’s confused, before realizing that’s a bad idea in this instance. Then, slowly, he nods. “Okay.”

 

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Alex watches him shuffle across the tiny kitchen and then sink down carefully onto a chair. He waits until he’s sure Michael’s settled, after which he heads for the bathroom and the well stocked kit he keeps under the sink. 

 

Michael barely flinches when Alex first swabs at the cut on his lip, and the rest of the clean up is more of the same. He sits quietly, possibly the stillest Alex has ever seen him, letting him work.

 

“Alright, take this too,” Alex says, holding up an ice pack he’d stuffed in the fridge before going to the bathroom. “You want to bring the swelling down for that eye.”

 

Still not saying anything, Michael accepts the pack, resting it over the wound with a barely contained hiss.

 

Alex now doesn’t know what to do. Treating the physical wounds is something he can handle, but what comes after is something he’s completely useless at. He stands there, feeling helpless, only to be saved by the clock striking ten and a knock sounding out at the front door.

 

“It’s just Kyle,” Alex assures when Michael jerks, startled by the noise. “It’s Sunday, remember?”

 

Michael nods, but his expression is troubled. “Do I have to let him see me like this?”

 

“Yes,” Alex says fervently, even as he feels his heart shatter a little further when Michael hiccups. “Today more than ever. We should have him make sure the damage is as superficial as it looks.”

 

“What damage?” Apparently having gotten tired of waiting, Kyle’s decided to let himself in. He ambles around the corner, looking as cheerful as ever, only to move a whole lot faster when he spots Michael.

 

“Fucking hell!” Brushing past Alex, he beelines right for Michael, dropping his bag on the table and then crouching down to get a better look. “What happened, buddy?”

 

“I fell down the stairs.” Michael’s reply is instantaneous, wooden, and clearly well practiced, like a line that had been trained into him whether he wanted it to be or not. He blinks after he says it, seeming unsure. “I mean ...”

 

“I know what you mean,” Kyle growls. With a gentleness that belies his expression, he gets his hands on Michael’s face and tilts his chin up as he examines him. “Do the stairs have a name?”

 

“Uh ...” Michael says, shooting Alex a panicked look. “Um.”

 

Before Alex can step in, however, Kyle shakes his head. “It’s alright, Michael. We can talk about it later.”

 

If anything that makes Michael look even more worried, but Kyle gives him a reassuring smile and pulls the now traditional sucker out of his pocket. “How’s grape sound today? Pretty sure I’ve got extra stashed on me somewhere if you like.”

 

Michael gives him a shrewd look. “That’s bribery for something,” he declares. “Even if I don’t know what.”

 

Kyle responds with a lopsided grin, although it seems a little forced. “I’ll never tell.”

 

As Alex watches, Michael’s shoulders relax slightly, as if he’d been waiting for another shoe to drop and unexpectedly learned he was worrying in vain. Deciding to take this as a sign to leave them be, he slips out of the room as quietly as his leg will let him and goes to lie down on the couch.

 

That’s where Kyle finds him a while later. One minute Alex had the space to himself, while the next Kyle’s materialized out of thin air, and is standing above him practically vibrating with rage.

 

“He has  _ bootprints _ on his torso,” Kyle growls. “Somebody obviously kicked him while he was on the ground, and I’m pretty sure his ribs are bruised. It’s a miracle nothing’s broken.”

 

“Are you sure about that?” Alex asks, remembering the careful way Michael had crossed the kitchen floor.

 

Kyle’s expression somehow manages to sour even further. “I am, but only barely. Bootprints, Alex,” he repeats. “Fucking  _ bootprints _ .”

 

“Please stop saying that,” Alex says, feeling vaguely nauseous. “Where is he now?”

 

“I sent him to go lie down,” Kyle replies. “He needs to rest. He should stay off his feet as much as possible until the next switchover happens.”

 

Alex nods, figuring that makes sense. Shifting carefully, he then forces himself into a sitting position. “This is not what I was expecting to wake up to this morning.”

 

“You and me both.” The growl is back in Kyle’s voice in full force, and when Alex glances over his expression is honestly alarming. “I am getting damn tired of seeing him be hurt.”

 

Alex watches as he starts pacing back and forth over the length of the living room. “He’s a kid,” he spits, “a kid who somebody kicked the crap out of, and, what? Nobody fucking noticed? Where were the goddamned adults who should’ve been looking out for him? Who left him in that situation?”

 

“Keep your voice down,” Alex hisses. “You think he wants to hear yelling right now? Take it from someone who’s been there, that’s the last thing that’s going to help.”

 

Kyle has the grace to look ashamed. “Sorry,” he says, pausing briefly in his movements. “It’s just,” the pacing ratchets up again. “He got hurt, probably more than once, and no one did a thing. They just let him fall right through the cracks.”

 

“You’re not saying anything I haven’t already thought to myself,” Alex informs him. “And not just today, either. I knew some of it before. He told me around when Isobel got out of the pod with Liz’s cure.”

 

“Did he tell you when it stopped?” Kyle asks. “How many more times are we going to go through this?”

 

Alex shrugs, unsure, and Kyle swears viciously. “Christ, I need a drink.”

 

“I can probably help with that.”

 

Both Alex and Kyle whirl around at the unexpected intrusion, nearly straining something in the process. Maria, however just stares impassively back at them.

 

“I had a weird feeling,” she says after several seconds have ticked by without anyone saying anything. “Like I should be here, but I don’t know why. Did something happen?”

 

“Someone used Michael as a punching bag,” Kyle growls before Alex can even think to stop him. “Not here, but pack in the past. Kid woke up black and blue all over.”

 

Maria bites her bottom lip, possibly to hold in her initial reaction. Her expression is unhappy to say the least. “Is he going to be okay? Where is he?”

 

“In his room,” Alex says softly. “We patched him up, so now he’s resting.”

 

“While you two are out here wallowing in a mess of self-recrimination,” she accurately surmises. “Because that’s gonna do the kid a world of good. Now I know what drew me here.”

 

“You two need to go clear your heads,” she informs them. “I’ll stay with Michael, and I can give you the keys to the Pony if you need somewhere to hide out for a bit. You may have some of my booze, but I expect you to be sober before you come back.”

 

“Deal,” Kyle says before Alex can formulate a response. He grabs the keys from Maria’s outstretched hand, and then reaches out to tug Alex forward by his sleeve. “Come on, Manes. We’re taking your car.”

 

Alex doesn’t remember agreeing to any of this, but Kyle seems to have developed super strength somewhere in the past half hour because there is no breaking his grip.  Telling Maria she should call them if she needs them over his shoulder, he resigns himself to his fate.

 

*****

 

As promised the Pony is locked up tight due to the hour, but the keys get them no problem. Alex feels a little weird being one of only two people standing in the dimly lit room - especially considering that other person is decidedly not Maria - and he idly wonders if Kyle feels the same.

 

Possibly not if the way he’s striding towards the bar is any indication. As Alex watches, he clambers around the counter, going right for the back shelf where the more expensive bottles of booze are stacked. Clearly he wasn’t kidding about this whole day drinking thing.

 

Not really feeling it himself, Alex nevertheless decides Kyle needs the company. Sitting down in one of his preferred booths, he watches the other man grab a bottle of whiskey, followed by a matching set of glasses. Then he waits for Kyle to come to him.

 

He doesn’t have to wait long. Plunking his recently collected items down on the table, he slides into the booth, after which he proceeds to crack open the whiskey and pour each of them a hefty sized glass. Sliding Alex’s across the table, he then picks up his own and downs half of it without so much as batting an eye.

 

Alex winces. “Kyle - “ he starts, but Kyle holds up a finger to stop him.

 

“Not yet, Manes,” he says into the resulting pause. “I just, for the second time in four weeks patched that kid up after someone assaulted him. Normally I’d be calling child protective services right about now, but I fucking can’t because it’s actually happening in the past, not the present. All I can do is be reactive instead of proactive!”

 

He slams his already empty glass down on the table, and grabs the bottle again. “Now every week I’m going to come in here terrified of what new thing I’m going to find, of what he might’ve been forced to go through this time around.” He says, knocking back another swig. “I just feel so helpless, you know?”

 

“Yeah,” Alex says heavily because that’s exactly how he feels as well. “I do.”

 

Kyle shakes his head like he didn’t hear him, or at the very least isn’t listening. “It’s just - why did nobody do anything, man? Why didn’t they do anything? Fuck, we - we would have known him at this point, why didn’t we?”

 

Alex exhales and rubs tiredly at the bridge of his nose. Against his better judgement, he picks up the glass Kyle’s poured for him and takes a few small sips. “I - we can’t look at it that way,” he says. “The fact is, we didn’t really know him back then. He was always with Max and Isobel, even before you and I parted ways. I don’t think I ever spoke to him until senior year.”

 

“Still,” Kyle protests, not dissuaded. “Someone should have looked after him. If not us, why didn’t the Evanses do anything?”

 

“Because knowing Michael he probably didn’t tell them how bad it was? Because they were just kids themselves? Because even if they did know, they’re also so freaked out over the possibility of being discovered that they’d never have gone near or a doctor or a hospital until you?” Alex shrugs. “I don’t know, take your pick.”

 

Kyle shakes an admonishing finger at him. “Stop being logical about this. I don’t want logic, man, I want - “ He freezes mid-sentence, and as Alex watches all the colour drains from his face. “Oh my god.”

 

Alarmed, Alex sits up straighter in his seat. “What? What is it? Do we have to head back?” Truth be told, he’d rather do that, doesn’t want to be away from Michael right now, but Kyle slowly shakes his head.

 

“They’ve never gone to a doctor,” he says woodenly. “That’s why - I could always tell by looking at it it’d never been properly set, but I didn’t realize - fuck.”

 

Alex considers taking the booze away from him since he isn’t making any sense. Nudging him slightly under the table with his good leg, he waits until he has his attention to speak. “What are you talking about?”

 

The look on Kyle’s face is so distraught it makes his gut clench. “His hand, Alex. His hand. He’s going to have to relive whatever happened there a second time around, and he’s going to lose most of the use of it.”

 

He keeps going after that, but Alex barely hears him because the bottom has just dropped out of his stomach. For the past two months, he’s been living week to week just trying to get through each year as it ticks by. It’s never once occurred to him that one of the worst days of both his and Michael’s lives is going to come back again.

 

“Oh god,” he says. He fumbles for the glass in front of him, only to find his hands are shaking too badly for him to pick it up. “Not that. He can’t have to go through that again, it’s not fair.”

 

“Does anyone even know what exactly went down?” Kyle asks. “Or when? He didn’t have it when I knew him, so it had to be after high school. An accident over at the junkyard maybe?”

 

“Seventeen,” Alex breathes, and it’s like he’s back there himself, rather than sitting here in the Pony in the present. “He was seventeen, and it wasn’t an accident. Not even close.”

 

“What do you mean?” Kyle’s expression turns shrewd, and he ignores the whiskey bottle for the first time since he’d sat down. Alex can tell the exact moment he puts the pieces together. “You were there, weren’t you?”

 

Alex closes his eyes only to immediately open them again when he has a flash of the hammer falling. “We were - my dad caught us together. He was so, so angry, and he came at me. Michael threw himself in the way.”

 

Kyle looks as sick as Alex feels. “What’d he do? Jesse, I mean. What was the actual cause of the injury?”

 

“You remember the old tool shed out behind my dad’s place?” It’s not Alex’s home. It hasn’t been for years, maybe not ever. “He caught us in there. Together. He picked up a hammer and ...”

 

Alex shudders. “It was so stupid, I was stupid! Of all places I could have taken him back to, I brought him to one where the worst person to have find out about us could come in at any moment, and then he  _ did _ .”

 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Kyle insists, like he could possibly know that. “You were kids, and you didn’t do anything wrong. Your dad - he’s a bad man, Alex. We both know that.”

 

“Yeah,” Alex says miserably, “and now he’s going to get a chance to hurt Michael all over again.”

 

Kyle gives him a long look, something strange lurking in his eyes. However, rather than say anything, he takes another swig of his drink.

 

Deciding he’s likewise done talking, Alex doesn’t comment.

 

*****

 

Alex comes home to find Michael curled up against Maria’s side on the couch. The two of them are lying under the heavy knitted blanket he keeps thrown over the back, watching a movie on Alex’s tiny laptop screen.

 

“Well don’t you guys look comfy,” he murmurs as he steps all the way inside. Letting the door swing shut behind him, he tosses his coat up on a nearby hook and kicks off his shoes. “What’re you watching?”

 

“I honestly have no idea,” Maria mutters. “I made the mistake of letting this one pick, and I stopped trying to figure out the plot an hour ago. Did you lose Valenti?”

 

“He’s fine,” Alex assures her. “I dropped him off at his apartment before I came home.”

 

“How’s he gonna get his truck back then?” Michael pipes up from within the depths of the blanket cocoon he’s wrapped in. “It’s still in the driveway.”

 

Alex shrugs, unconcerned. “We’ll make arrangements, don’t worry.” Cocking his head to the side, he eyes the couch, doing some calculations in his head. “You guys think there’s room for me in there?”

 

“Yeah,” Michael says, at the same time Maria shakes her head no. The two of them share a look that consists of a series of micro expressions, with Michael eventually coming out on top. 

 

“Yes,” he says smugly, while Maria rolls her eyes. Unfurling one arm out of the cloth prison he has it trapped in, he pats the minuscule space on his free side. “You can sit by me.”

 

“Ooh, special treatment,” Maria singsongs.

 

Ignoring her, Alex squeezes himself into the minimal space available, making sure he’s careful not to jostle Michael too much in the process. He winds up as much off the couch as he is on it - the position one there’s no way he’ll be able to maintain long term - but it’s worth it for the way Michael smiles and leans into him.

 

He looks up to find Maria eyeballing him over the curve of Michael’s shoulder. “Like I said,” she says with a grin, “special treatment.”

 

Alex rolls his eyes, but settles in to watch the movie. His thoughts were a jumbled mess all the way back to the cabin, and he knows there are some things he’s really going to need to sort out, sooner rather than later. Right this moment, though, he resolves to put it all out of his head and just breathe. 

 

*****

 

The rest of week fourteen passes relatively easily. Michael still carries the marks he’d woken up with, but the swelling of his eye goes down and some of the stiffness goes out of his movements. Then he slides into week fifteen without any problem, with the same going for week sixteen.

 

At that point Alex breathes a cautious sigh of relief. The issue of Michael’s left hand is still coming up, but if the current pattern holds, this should at least be the end of the abusive foster parents. 

 

Mind you, that’s at least in part because Michael’s now right around the age of when he’d started living in his truck. He asks Alex about it, one night about halfway through the week, idly curious about what had happened to his beloved vehicle.

 

“You still have it,” Alex says absently. He’s got his nose buried in a stack of papers he’s supposed to be consulting on, and he’s only kind of listening as Michael waxes poetic from where he’s sprawled lengthwise across the couch. “It’s been stored over at Max’s while you’ve been with me.”

 

“Wait, seriously?” Michael asks, and Alex hears more than he sees it as he pushes up onto his elbows. “It’s still running?”

 

Now Alex does look over. “Are you telling me you don’t already think you could keep it going with that big brain of yours?” He asks. “The thing may look like crap, but it drives fine.”

 

“Huh,” Michael says, flopping back down onto the couch cushions with the boneless  grace of teenagers everywhere. “Can I have it back then?”

 

About to say no automatically, Alex pauses before responding. Michael’s sixteen now, finally at a point where he looks more like his future self than not, and they can hardly justify keeping the truck from him on the basis that he’s too young to have it. Not given how he’d already possessed it at this age the first time around.

 

“I’ll talk to some of the others,” he says instead. “We’ll see if we can’t arrange to get it brought back over.”

 

“Why can’t you and I just go get it?” Michael asks. 

 

“Because I said so,” Alex replies, laughing when Michael hurls a couch pillow at his head. “Real mature, Guerin.”

 

*****

 

Liz and Maria agree to get the truck out to the cabin between the two of them the next day, and it somehow morphs into a group affair when Kyle and even Jenna follow them out.

 

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Alex muses when he sees her climb down out of her own rig. He’s sitting in a chair parked on the front porch, watching as Michael enthusiastically accepts the return of his keys from Maria. “What’s up?”

 

“Oh, you know,” she drawls, “working a lot of overtime to cover the hole Max has left in the force. County won’t bring anyone in to temporarily replace him since as far as they know he’s coming back. It’s starting to get a little annoying.”

 

Alex winces. “Sorry about that,” he says. “Wish I could give you an estimate on a return date, but his and Isobel’s last call said they were tracking Noah even further up north. Apparently she’s starting to get a little worried they’ll be heading across the US border.”

 

Michael had not been happy to hear that either. He won’t admit it, but he misses his brother and sister, and as far as he’s concerned they’re on a wild goose chase. He now tends to spend most of their increasingly sporadic calls trying to convince them to turn around.

 

For his part, Alex is of two minds on the whole thing. On the one hand, if this all ends when Michael retains his appropriate age, then fine, they’ve made it this far and they can continue to do so, but on the other, if he keeps right on aging rapidly past that, they’re going to have a problem.

 

Lost in thought, he doesn’t realize Jenna’s kept on talking until she pokes him sharply in the centre of his forehead. “Ow,” he says, batting her hand away. “What was that for?”

 

“To get you to come back down to earth,” she informs him. “You were drifting off somewhere that wasn’t here.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

She eyes him levelly for a few moments, and then shrugs. “Whatever. I was asking how you felt about firing up the grill though. It’s getting late, and I figure no one here would say no to a bite.”

 

That’s actually not a bad idea. Nodding, he moves to push out of his chair, only to have Jenna wave him back down again. “I’m on it,” she says simply. “I like having something to keep me occupied with. You stay here.”

 

There’s a certain look in her eye that hints at her physically restraining him if he doesn’t give in. Holding up his hands in surrender, he gets a grin in return, and the next thing he knows she’s bustling off to do her thing. Allowing himself a grin of his own, he turns back to the driveway and the rest of their crew.

 

Only to find Kyle considerably closer than he’s expecting.

 

“ _ Christ _ ,” he gasps, barely resisting the urge to reach out and shove the other man back at least a few inches. “Where the hell did you come from?”

 

Kyle points towards the driveway where a friendly argument seems to have broken out. “Michael’s insisting he knows how to drive just fine, and Liz and Maria are insisting he prove it before they let him go anywhere on his own.”

 

“And you didn’t feel like adding your two cents worth?” Alex asks. He glances at the trio Kyle’s just mentioned, and it looks like the three of them are about to pile into the truck and take it for a spin. “I’m sure they’d make room for you.”

 

Kyle snorts. “If they did, it’d probably be the kind of traffic violation Jenna’d have to book us for, and that’s not really how I want my mom encountering Teen Guerin 2.0. We’ve hidden him this long, I’d like to keep on doing it.”

 

Alex waves a hand in acknowledgement of his point, and then changes the gesture to encompass the patio set he’s currently lording over. “Fair enough. Pull up a chair.”

 

Kyle does so, sliding out the seat closest to Alex and dropping into it in a seemingly boneless heap. He fidgets for a few minutes, his eyes fixed on where a laughing Michael is edging the truck forwards in direct violation of the commands Liz and Maria are giving him. Then he sighs.

 

“Fuck it, I have to just bite the bullet on this.” With his gaze never leaving Michael, he squares his shoulders and sits up in his seat. “I want you to bring him to the hospital on Saturday.”

 

It’s the kind of moment where if Alex were in the process of drinking something he’d wind up spraying it all over the lawn. Vaguely pleased he won’t be drawing attention to himself in that way, he nevertheless jerks around to openly gape at his companion. “You  _ what _ ?”

 

“Keep your voice down,” Kyle says absently, still not turning to look at him. “It’s a good idea.”

 

“Not given how he feels about hospitals, it isn’t,” Alex disagrees. “You can treat him here like always. Just come early since we know what to expect.”

 

“See, that’s the thing,” Kyle says, and when he finally faces Alex his expression is as serious as he’s ever seen it. “Knowing what to expect means I  _ can’t _ treat him like always. You were there, man. You know full well that injury is going to need more than whatever I have in my little black bag of tricks.”

 

“It didn’t the last time around,” Alex notes, squirming uncomfortably when Kyle pins him with a glare.

 

“Yeah,” he snaps, only to lower his voice almost immediately to avoid drawing attention to them, “because he didn’t have someone he trusted who he could go to. You and I know full well he must have tried to treat it by himself, and that’s why it wound up so goddamned mangled.”

 

“I’m not saying that was anybody’s fault, least of all yours,” he continues on before Alex can parse together his thoughts enough to formulate a response, “but I’m not letting it happen again. Not when I have the means to do anything about it. I am going to properly treat that hand, and you’re going to help me.”

 

Alex thinks about arguing, but when it gets down to it, what the hell can he say? That he’d rather see Michael suffer than bother to bring him to the hospital? Obviously that’s not the case, and Kyle’s right, a trusted physician he could have gone to might have made all the difference ten years ago. At least this time he can spend the ensuing week with his hand properly bandaged. That’s got to count for something.

 

“Alright,” he says after long enough has passed that Kyle’s starting to look antsy. “Of course, I’ll do it. It’s a good idea.”

 

Kyle huffs our a relieved breath. “Thanks,” he says. “I honestly wasn’t sure how I’d pull this off without you on board. The hospital part is easy enough for me to set up, but I doubt he’d just come to me without you encouraging him.”

 

*****

 

Alex spends the coming Saturday evening with an ever increasing pit of dread forming in his stomach. He puts off doing anything until the last possible second, finally knocking on the door to Michael’s room at a little past ten.

 

Michael’s been in there listening to music for the past little while, probably trying to wind down enough so that he can go to sleep. The volume decreases slightly as Alex waits nervously outside, until finally he hears Michael’s voice telling him to come in.

 

“Hey,” Alex starts when he opens the door. He’d been planning to aim for nonchalant, to act like nothing big was happening, the calm before the storm. All that fails him when he sees Michael sprawled out on his bed, loose limbed and happy as he sketches equations out in a notebook.

 

He knows with sudden clarity that Michael’s never going to look like this again. No matter how much he manages to bounce back afterwards, this will be the start of a fundamental shift, one he won’t be able to come back from. The very thought makes Alex’s breath catch in his throat.

 

Some or all of that must show on his face because Michael’s easy smile fades, and he sits up slowly, his posture turning wary. “Alex?” He asks softly, his tone proving he knows Alex is precariously balanced right now. “What’s wrong?”

 

_ What isn’t wrong? _ Alex thinks wildly. Michael’s about to relive arguably the most traumatic experience of his life, and there’s nothing anyone can do for him besides be there when it happens. It isn’t fair.

 

“I need you to pack an overnight bag,” he chokes out when he finally finds his voice again. “We have to go somewhere.”

 

“What? Right now? What’s going on?” Michael asks each question in rapid fire succession, his eyes never leaving Alex’s face as he searches for answers. “Did I do something wrong?”

 

“No, god no,” Alex says raggedly, feeling like a lead weight is sitting on his chest. “You absolutely, utterly did nothing wrong. But,” he stresses, “I need you to come with me. I really do. Okay?”

 

“Okay,” Michael replies, but it’s the least enthusiastic thing Alex thinks he’s ever heard come out of his mouth. “How long do I pack for?”

 

“Just tonight,” Alex says, unwilling to keep him in the hospital any longer than he has to. “I’ll be in the living room. Let me know when you’re ready.”

 

It turns out Michael’s ready in virtually no time at all. He slinks out of his room after Alex has been waiting for maybe five minutes, a backpack thrown over his shoulder, and a wary set to his shoulders as he climbs into Alex’s car.

 

They drive in silence, Alex because he doesn’t trust himself to speak, and Michael because who knows why. It’s simultaneously both the slowest and fastest trip Alex has ever made from the cabin to the hospital.

 

Michael stiffens when he realizes where they are. His grip on the bag tightens, and he looks at Alex with frightened eyes. “Wh - why are we here?”

 

“Because we need to be,” Alex says, wishing they could go literally anywhere else. It’s bad enough what’s about to happen, but this time it’s going to take place in arguably the spot Michael dislikes most in the world. 

 

Their eyes meet across the dash, and Alex forces his hands away from the steering wheel. He blows out a heavy breath. “I need you to trust me, Michael. I wouldn’t bring you here if I thought for a second there was somewhere else that would do.”

 

He holds Michael’s gaze until the boy swallows and nods. Then they both climb out of the car and walk towards the hospital’s front steps.

 

“No, not that way,” Alex says when Michael automatically turns in the direction of Liz’s lab. He curls an arm around Michael’s elbow, tugging him towards the elevator. “That’s not where we’re going tonight.”

 

He feels a slight tremor run through Michael from where they’re touching, and inwardly he curses himself for how he’s handled this. Kyle was right, he should have been honest from the get go.

 

And speaking of Kyle, he’s waiting for them when they enter the room they’ve been assigned. He’s sitting at the edge of the bed, nervously interlocking his fingers together while he waits.

 

“Hey guys,” he starts to say. “I’ve got everything set up already, so -“

 

That’s as far as Michael lets him get. Clutching his backpack to his chest like a shield, he darts a look back and forth between the two of them, clearly not liking what he sees. “Alright,” he demands. “What is going on?!”

 

Kyle rears up like he’s been slapped, but instead of turning to Michael, he shifts to openly gape at Alex. “You didn’t tell him?” He spits. “Fucking hell, Manes. You dragged him all the way out here in the middle of the night, and you didn’t fucking tell him?!”

 

“How could I?” Alex practically shouts, some of the frustration he’s been keeping bottled up in the weeks since they’d realized this was coming starting to leak out. “How the hell was I supposed to explain this?”

 

“By thinking about him rather than yourself,” Kyle snaps, so harshly that Alex recoils. Furiously, he jabs a finger towards Michael. “Look at him! He has no idea why he’s here and he’s  _ terrified _ !”

 

It’s true, Alex can see it now that he looks. Michael’s completely hunched in on himself, and it’s obvious his fight or flight responses are mere moments from kicking in. They need to sort this out, and they need to do it now.

 

Which turns out to be a concept Kyle agrees with. Scrambling down off the bed, he stomps over to Alex, and prods him none too gently in the chest. “You tell him what’s going on, or so help me god, I will.”

 

Temporarily unable to speak, Alex nods. This is apparently not sufficient, however, because Kyle pokes him again, this time so hard he nearly loses footing. “I’ll do it,” he whispers. “I’ve got it.”

 

Kyle pulls back to eye him up and down. He must be satisfied by what he sees this time though because he nods curtly and turns towards the door, pausing only briefly to give Michael a quick hug and murmur something in his ear that’s too quiet for Alex to make out. Then he’s gone, and they’re alone in the room.

 

Feeling suddenly exhausted, Alex stumbles over to the bed and sits down on it with a ragged sigh. Burying his face in his hands for a moment, he scrubs at his eyes before moving to pat the spot on the mattress next to him. “Come sit, please.”

 

Michael doesn’t move right away, but after Alex pats the mattress a few more times, he slowly shuffles over to do as he’s been asked. He’s still holding onto the backpack, twisting the straps around his hand like a lifeline. “Something bad is going to happen, isn’t it?” He asks quietly. “When I age again, right?”

 

“Yes,” Alex says simply. He looks away, unable to meet Michael’s eyes. “When you were seventeen, you got hurt, badly, and it was all my fault.”

 

“How?” Michael asks, and for all that he still sounds nervous, there’s a note of genuine curiosity there as well. “What happened?”

 

“You tried to protect me from something terrible,” Alex says, “and you paid the price.”

 

And that, right there, will always be the worst part. Never mind the fact that Michael would never have been in the tool shed that day if Alex hadn’t brought him there. It’d been Alex his father had meant to take that hammer to before Micheal had thrown himself in the way. He’d have been able to get out unscathed if he’d only kept out of it.

 

“Alex?” Michael asks worriedly. His fingers unexpectedly come up to trace the side of Alex’s face. “You’re crying.”

 

Dimly, Alex realizes he’s right. Blinking furiously to combat the tears, he pulls out of Michael’s reach. “Sorry,” he says harshly, wiping the evidence away with the back of his hand. “I’m fine.”

 

“You don’t look fine,” Michael says, a mutinous cast to his face as he speaks. “Don’t sound it either.”

 

“Yeah, well, sue me. Maybe I’m not the world’s greatest liar.” Satisfied he’s done away with the tears, he glances at Michael. “I’m not lying when I say I’m going to do everything in my power to help you through this, though. You know that, right?”

 

Michael nods. “Yes,” he says simply. Then he lets his gaze roam around the room, suddenly fidgeting awkwardly. “Now what? Do we just ... wait?”

 

Surprised he’s not pressing for more details on his inevitable injury, Alex nevertheless doesn’t push. He’d rather not get into it, and knowing exactly what’s coming might well freak Michael out even more. 

 

“You should try and get some sleep,” he says after it occurs to him that he’s gone too long without answering. “It’ll help pass the time.”

 

Michael gives him his patented ‘you’re being stupid’ look, the one he’d perfected somewhere around age nine. Yet, despite this, he doesn’t press, but instead starts rooting around in his bag.

 

“I’m putting my pyjamas on,” he declares, yanking free a pair of sleep pants Alex doesn’t recognize. It’s quickly followed by a band t-shirt that looks like it’s seen better days. “Wait here.”

 

Hopping down off the bed, he steps into the tiny bathroom, more of an alcove really, off to the side of the room. Alex can hear him bustling around in there.

 

Figuring he should probably let Kyle know he’s done as he was told, he pulls out his phone to send him a quick text. Kyle in return replies with an affirmative and a request that Alex call for him when it’s time. 

 

Alex is tucking his phone back in his pocket when Michael emerges from the bathroom. Without saying anything, he slides backwards onto the bed, propping himself up against the headboard and patting the spot next to him in an obvious invitation for Michael to come sit.

 

He does so. Chewing nervously on his bottom lip, he curls up in the available space, flattening himself against Alex’s side like he belongs there. 

 

Without saying why, Alex takes his left hand and shifts it to splay against his chest, putting it in such a position that it won’t risk being trapped between the press of their bodies. Then he wraps his free arm around Michael’s back, holding him close as he sweeps his hand in soothing circles.

 

“Try to rest,” he murmurs into Michael’s hair. “I’ll be here the entire time, I swear. I’m not leaving you to go through this alone.”

 

*****

 

Despite the fact that it’s been happening for months now, none of them has ever bothered to pinpoint the exact moment one of Michael’s changes occur. They know it always happens in the wee hours of a Sunday morning, likely how the originating accident had gone, but beyond that, nothing.

 

Based on previous times, Alex calculates that it probably takes place somewhere around four in the morning, and he eyes his watch with trepidation as they edge closer and closer to that time.

 

Michael had drifted off somewhere around 2:30, not even the anxiety of what’s to come enough to keep him from sleep in the end. Honestly, Alex envies him because he’s had no such luck. He’s as wide awake now as he was at the height of day, and he doubts that’s going to change anytime soon.

 

The only illumination in the room is a small lamp mounted above the bed. Alex had shut off the harsh overhead fluorescents a while ago, figuring they wouldn’t do anything to help Michael fall asleep. He lies there, idly looking around the room in the dim light, and that’s when it happens.

 

His watch reads 4:11am, and he’d congratulate himself on being right if he wasn’t also on the verge of being sick. Right in front of him, Michael shifts, frowning as his body gains a couple inches in height and his shoulders broaden slightly. His hair lengthens, going back to the windswept curls Alex remembers burying his hands in at seventeen, and suddenly he fills out the too big t-shift he’d gone to sleep in. All of which would be fine, if not for his hand.

 

The bones don’t snap like they did the first time around. There’s no horrifying crack like there had been in the tool shed. One minute the entire limb is unblemished, and the next it’s twisted and mangled, blood oozing everywhere as the skin separates.

 

Alex isn’t sure what summons Kyle first, his own shout, or Michael’s heart wrenching scream as he comes awake to a ruined limb. The lights come on, all the better to illuminate the destruction, and suddenly Kyle’s shoving a bottle of nail polish remover into view.

 

“Help me get this down him,” he barks. “It’s the only thing that’s going to help with the pain!”

 

Grateful for his foresight, Alex takes the bottle and forces it between Michael’s lips. “Drink it,” he says desperately, his heart clenching at the sound of agonized moans. “Michael, please!”

 

It takes Michael a moment to figure out what he’s being offered, but when he does he gulps the bottle down so fast, Alex is surprised he doesn’t choke. Then he does the same thing with a second that appears as soon as the first is empty. The third he drinks slower, and his expression goes wonky as the effects start to kick in.

 

He can still feel the pain, though. Alex can tell, and he holds him as tight as he dares, murmuring a steady stream of comforting nonsense in the boy’s ear as Kyle bends over his hand to examine it.

 

“Hurts,” Michael gasps, and Alex presses a kiss to his sweaty forehead without thinking.

 

“I know,” he says wretchedly, bile threatening to rise in his throat the longer he looks at the injury. “I know, sweetheart, but we’re going to take care of you. We’re here to help.”

 

He looks at Kyle, who right now is their one chance at salvation. “What do you need?”

 

Kyle grimaces. “For starters? X-rays.” 

 

Michael makes an aborted noise of denial, but Kyle cuts him off with a shake of his head. “Buddy, I know,  _ I know _ , okay? But there’s even more damage than I was expecting. I can’t set it properly without first seeing the state of the bones. I need to get a look at what’s going on in there.”

 

“You have to listen to him, Michael,” Alex insists, holding on as tight as he dares when Michael shakes his head furiously. “He knows what he’s talking about. We’ll destroy any scans as soon as we’re done, I promise. We’ll keep you  _ safe _ .”

 

Even as he says that last part, he wants to laugh at how patently untrue it must seem. Michael’s just received a first hand account of how Alex hasn’t been able to protect him for years - why would he believe him now?

 

Apparently he must because he allows them to help him up out of the bed and into a wheelchair Kyle brings in from the hallway.

 

“I can walk,” he says, or rather tries to say when the chair’s brought in. “It’s just my -“

 

“Shut up and sit down,” Kyle says, refusing to let him get any further. He tucks a flurry of bandages around Michael’s hand to staunch the remainder of the bleeding, and grips the handles of the chair. “Alex will walk and I’ll drive. It’s this way.”

 

Michael keeps his head down as they make their way towards the X-Ray room, but his faint whimpers still ring out as they cross the short distance. Each time he hears one, Alex feels his heart clench a little more.

 

As promised, Kyle’s as quick and gentle as possible with the X-rays, but he swears viciously when he sees the resulting print out. He turns to look at Alex. “I know it’s not news,” he spits, “but your father really is a monster.”

 

“I know,” Alex says weakly, fighting the urge to break down himself. “Oh god, I know.”  

 

Distantly, he registers the feeling of fingers closing around his own, and when he looks down he finds Michael gripping his hand with his good one. “It wasn’t your fault,” he says, voice hoarse from yelling. “Alex, I swear.”

 

Alex wants to protest, to deny, to demand to know how he can possibly say that, but he stops when he sees the look in Kyle’s eye. The man gives the faintest shake of his head, effectively stopping Alex in his tracks.   

 

“I can set the bones now,” he says, and of course it’s bones plural. “Lets get this taken care of.”

 

Michael clings to Alex throughout the entire process, trying and failing to hold back sharp cries of pain as Kyle pieces his hand back together as best as he’s able. He’s a gasping, panting mess by the end of it, and he sags into Alex’s arms in a boneless heap when everything is done.

 

“You’re alright, you’re okay,” Alex murmurs over and over again, “and you’re so brave. You did so good.”

 

“It’s true,” Kyle agrees, and a quick glance at him is enough to prove Alex has never seen him so exhausted. He wipes a hand over his forehead, looking like he’s mere moments from passing out. “So good.”

 

“You need to sit down,” Alex tells him, but Kyle shakes his head stubbornly.

 

“Michael first,” he says, nodding seriously. “He needs to rest, so let’s get him into bed, and then we can worry about finding somewhere to pass out for ourselves.”

 

“I’m not leaving him,” Alex says flatly, as he helps Michael ease carefully under the covers of the hospital bed, mindful not to touch his bad hand. “I’ll sleep on the fucking floor if I have to.”

 

“Maybe try a chair,” Kyle suggests, and for the first time in hours something that might possibly be called a smile graces his features. “The floor will fuck up your back.”

 

Alex shoots him a dirty look, but he’s too tired to do anything more than that. A quick glance at Michael finds him almost a sleep, and he feels a new wave of exhaustion roll over him as he realizes that, for the second time, they’ve survived this horror.

 

“I think,” he slurs tiredly, “that I need to sit down now.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the last chapter folks. Massive thanks to everyone who’s read and commented along the way :)))

 

Alex wakes the next morning feeling like he’s gone ten rounds in a boxing ring and gotten his ass thoroughly kicked in the process. His neck hurts, his back hurts, and his leg is screaming at him the way it only does when he’s worn the prosthetic for far too long, so that he’s seriously fucked up in the process. The mere idea of moving sucks, and he can’t stop a hiss of pain from escaping through his teeth when he shifts in the uncomfortable plastic chair he’s been sleeping in.

 

“Hmm?” The quiet noise cuts through his fog-addled brain far more quickly than a shout would have, and when Alex forces his eyes open, he finds Michael gazing at him in a manner that suggests he’s only half awake. “Alex?”

 

Snapping to attention, Alex ignores his aching body and shoves himself out of the chair. Lurching over to the bed, he props himself up on the handrails as he rakes his eyes over Michael, looking for any obvious signs of distress, almost crying when he finds none. Michael’s hand is still bandaged, yes, but his skin has lost its previous sickly pallor and even his curls look like they have more bounce in them.

 

“Hi,” Alex says roughly, and even though his instincts are telling him not to press, he flattens his palm over Michael’s forehead, relieved when he doesn’t feel anything resembling a fever. “How are you?”

 

Michael shrugs, but Alex doesn’t miss the way he’s careful to use only his right shoulder, not doing anything that might move his left hand. “‘M okay,” he mumbles. “It doesn’t hurt so bad all wrapped up.”

 

“Good, that’s good.” Forcing a smile to his face, Alex shifts his hand to cup the side of Michael’s face, stroking his thumb gently over one cheekbone. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

 

“I am,” Michael says, and now the faint slurring in his voice is gone. His words are firm. “Are you?”

 

Alex blinks. “Me?” He asks, genuinely confused. “You know I’m fine.”

 

“I don’t mean this morning,” Michael clarifies, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “I didn’t remember what your dad used to do to you,” he says. “I do now.”

 

Alex stares at him, temporarily at a loss for words. “You really are a remarkable kid, aren’t you?” He says when he’s found them again. “That son of a bitch tried to reduce your hand to pieces, and yet you’re still worrying about me. Jesus, Michael.”

 

“He was going for you first,” Michael says. “I remember him with his hand on your throat, and I know that wasn’t the first time.”

 

“No, it wasn’t,” Alex admits, “but it was the last. I enlisted shortly after. It made him back off.”

 

Michael nods, his eyes going downcast. “I remember you leaving,” he says quietly, fidgeting with the scratchy hospital blanket as he suddenly refuses to look at Alex. “It sucked.”

 

“For both of us,” Alex agrees. “Trust me, I didn’t want to go.”

 

“Mhmm,” Michael says absently. He focuses on the blanket for a while, twisting it in the fingers of his good hand as he processes whatever it is that’s going on inside his head. Finally, he looks up again. “You’re here though, so that must mean you came back?”

 

He utters the words like a question, and the look of hope in his eyes is almost too much for Alex to bare. “I did,” he says. “Took a real roundabout way in getting here, but I’m back and I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

 

Michael considers this. “Are we?” He starts, and Alex has forgotten how easily he used to blush as a teen. His cheeks go red as he tries again. “Are we, you and adult me, are we a thing?”

 

Alex laughs. He doesn’t mean to, and he cuts the noise off almost immediately, but at least part of an aborted sound slips out. “Yes, Michael,” he says. “We’re a thing. I wouldn’t spend months babysitting just anyone through weird alien shenanigans.”

 

“How come you didn’t tell me?” Michael wants to know. “How come you let me think you were just some person I met who was helping me out?”

 

“The truth? Because it was easier,” Alex admits. “This whole situation has been really weird, and I didn’t want to complicate it further.”

 

“Oh,” Michael says, and that seems to be the end of things for him. He lies back against his pillows, seemingly lost in thought.

 

Alex watches him for a while, but when it becomes clear he doesn’t have anything further to say - either that or he doesn’t know what to say - he decides to let him be. 

 

“I’m going to go see about figuring out when we can take off.” Pushing away from the railings, he rakes a hand through his hair in a poor attempt to get it under control. “Will you be okay in here alone for a bit?”

 

Michael makes a face. “I really don’t like hospitals ...” he says, and Alex is honestly contemplating calling Maria or Liz to see if they can come sit here while he wanders the halls looking for a way out when all that becomes a moot point and Kyle walks in.

 

He looks like hell, is the first thing Alex notices. His hair is unkempt and the bags under his eyes have bags. Recognizing exhaustion when he sees it, Alex wonders if he’d managed to get any sleep at all after he’d set Michael’s hand.

 

He’s actually about to ask as much when Kyle spots Michael, and his entire demeanour changes. A palpable wave of relief washes over him, one Alex can practically feel from several feet away.

 

“Hey, buddy,” he says on approach. “Good to see you awake. How’re you feeling?”

 

Alex is expecting Michael to respond as he had previously, by saying he’s sore but okay. Barring that, he’s expecting him to shrug and try and play it off like he’s fine. What he’s not expecting at all is for Michael’s lip to curl, and for him to nail Kyle with a dangerous glare.

 

Neither, apparently is Kyle. At least, not if the way he rocks to a stop is anything to go by. “Michael, what’s wrong?” He asks tentatively. “Are you in pain?”

 

“Of course I’m in pain, Valenti,” Michael snaps, and Kyle’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline at his tone. “A crazy bastard smashed my hand to pieces. How could I not hurt after that?”

 

“O-okay,” Kyle says slowly, bringing his hands up in a calming gesture. “Can I take a look?”

 

“No,” Michael says flatly, while Kyle and Alex share a baffled look over his head. “I don’t want you touching me.”

 

“Michael,” Alex tries, wondering what the hell is going on. “It’s Kyle. He’s your doctor. And your friend.”

 

Michael snorts. “He’s not,” he declares, turning to look at Kyle, “or did you think I wouldn’t remember?” He all but spits. “I don’t know why you’ve been so nice this whole time, but you’re not my friend. Or Alex’s. You’re the asshole who tormented us because we’re different.”

 

Oh  _ shit _ .

 

He’d forgotten, Alex realizes, what other memories would be coming back today. The issue of Michael’s hand had been weighing so heavily on his mind, that nothing else had sunk in. Until now, that is.

 

A quick glance at Kyle shows the same realization dawning for him, and he makes a point not to come any closer to Michael’s bed, choosing instead to settle in a plastic chair he drags out from somewhere.

 

“Michael,” he starts, only to pause when he’s irately told he’s not allowed to use that name. “Okay, Guerin,” he says, like he hasn’t done for months, “I don’t know what to tell you. You’re right, I was a dick in high school.”

 

“You used to shove me into lockers,” Michael recalls, his eyes narrowing as he speaks. “You used to make fun of me because my clothes were old. Because I lived in my truck. Because I didn’t have a  _ home _ .”

 

“You used to - “ Michael grunts, smacking the side of the bed with his good hand in frustration. “I remember the things you used to say about Alex.”

 

It’s obvious that Michael intends to keep going until he works himself into a fervour, and Alex can’t watch that happen; both because he’s scared of him hurting himself further and because Kyle looks like he’s halfway to crying. Stepping forward, Alex wraps his arms around Michael, cutting off the flow of words.

 

“It’s different now,” he promises. “What you’re remembering is ten years in the past. None of us are the same people anymore.”

 

“But -“ Twisting around in his grip, Michael stares up at him in confusion. “But I  _ remember _ .”

 

“You remember the bad things,” Alex clarifies. “The stuff from 2008. That wasn’t exactly any of our best years, and it was a decade ago, Michael.”

 

“Not for him it isn’t.” Kyle gives him a weak smile and waves his hand when Alex opens his mouth to counter. “Save it, Manes. He’s been through enough. Fuck, just let him be angry.”

 

Leaning forward in his chair, he rests his hands on his knees, like he’s bracing himself for a fight. “Michael, I’m sorry,” he says. “I truly am. You’re right, I treated you, both of you, like absolute crap.”

 

“Now,” he continues on, “I could say that I’m different. That I’ve grown and changed my behaviour, and that’s true and I have, but,” he adds, holding up a hand when Michael looks like he’s gearing up to protest, “none of that is an excuse.”

 

“I’m not here to invalidate your pain,” Kyle says seriously. “In fact, I’m here to do the opposite and try to reduce it. You know  _ that _ . I’ve been helping you through this for months.”

 

There’s a whole series of emotions warring with each other in Michael’s expression. He wants to believe what he’s hearing, Alex can tell, wants to think that Kyle’s his friend who’s been caring for him because he means something to him, but that’s not what wins out in the end. Maybe it’s because the other memories are too new, too fresh, too close to the surface but Michael’s eyes narrow, and then he speaks.

 

“I don’t trust you,” he says simply, and then he’s shifting to look up at Alex. “Make him go away. Please.”

 

Alex stares down at him helplessly, completely at a loss for what to do. “Michael,” he says hoarsely, and then pauses to try and gather his thoughts. “You’re hurt,” he decides, “and he’s the only doctor we have.”

 

“My hand’s wrapped up, and it already feels better than it did the last time around,” Michael insists. “I’m fine.”

 

“Your hand is broken in four places,” Kyle says; apparently he’s at least willing to stand firm where medical diagnoses are concerned. “You are not fine, and you can’t just pretend that you are.”

 

“No,” he continues on, shaking his head when Michael straightens up in bed and a snarl creases his face, “this isn’t negotiable. You don’t like me, you don’t want me around? Fine, I get it. You have every right to feel that way, but Alex is correct in saying I’m the only doctor you have, and I am not going to break every oath I took in this job by walking away now.”

 

“We can keep is strictly professional,” he finishes, “but you are going to get proper treatment if I have to sit on you to do it.”

 

“Oh ‘cause that’ll help a ton,” Michael snaps, and Alex feels a faintly hysterical urge to laugh at his words. “How the hell did you even get into medical school, Valenti? You’re an idiot.”

 

“Michael!” Alex starts, but this time it’s Kyle who holds up a hand to keep him from talking.

 

Looking oddly rejuvenated all of a sudden, he locks eyes with Alex before nodding at Michael. “If he feels good enough to be a rude little shit that means I did something right. Let him have this one.”

 

“Don’t patronize me.” Scowling, Michael rolls over into his side, effectively ending the conversation by presenting his back to Kyle. He also closes his eyes and stubbornly refuses to look at Alex too. “I’m done talking while you’re in here.”

 

Huffing, Kyle jerks his head towards the door, obviously wanting Alex to follow him. Alex waffles for a moment, but in the end sighs and trails after him. “I’ll be right back,” he tells Michael’s hunched form. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

 

He doesn’t get an answer, and when he exits the room, he finds Kyle slumping tiredly against the wall. The other man barely looks up as Alex comes to stand next to him, and the laugh he forces out is ragged to say the least.

 

“So someone’s officially a teenager,” he says, making Alex snort. “God, I don’t believe this.” He lets his head fall back against the wall, lolling it from side to side as he rubs at his temples. “I should, though. Of course he fucking hates me right now. I practically tortured you both when we were in school together.”

 

Alex shrugs and nudges him with his shoulder. “If it helps, you were arguably way more of a dick to me, and I kind of like you these days.”

 

Kyle nudges him back a lot harder. “Asshole,” he grunts, but there’s no real heat in it. “Fuck, what do we do with this?”

 

“The same thing we’ve been doing for months,” Alex replies. “We keep going. As long as you tell me it’s okay, I’ll take him home and keep an eye on him. I’ll call if anything seems off.”

 

“Yeah,” Kyle sighs. “I guess I just always planned to watch him myself today, but that’s definitely off the table. I’m honestly a little surprised he didn’t get me with the tk. He knows I know about it.”

 

“He doesn’t abuse it like that,” Alex points out. “He never has.”

 

“True,” Kyle agrees. “Yeah that’s a good point. If he didn’t lose control last night, he’s probably not going to do it period. Having said that, I really do want to check him over before I let you take him out of here. He’s been through something traumatic, and I want to be sure nothing else has gone wrong.”

 

Alex pinches the bridge of his nose at the thought of how well that interaction is likely to go over, but in the end he acknowledges the validity of what Kyle is saying. “Okay, fine,” he says, “but I hope to god you don’t find anything that’s going to require further treatment, and I’m not just saying that because I don’t want him hurt.”

 

Kyle makes a face. “You and me both.”

 

*****

 

Luckily, Michael doesn’t develop any new grievous injuries as he undergoes examination. He does glare daggers at Kyle every time he so much as breathes in his direction, but Alex resigns himself to that being par for the course over the next little while. 

 

“And I thought he disliked you when you first met up again as adults,” Alex mutters, watching as Michael carefully tugs a hoodie on one handed, while he and Kyle stand barely out of earshot. “Do you think the pain is making it worse?”

 

Kyle sighs. “Maybe, but I doubt it. He’s pretty pissed, and the acetone we slipped him should be dulling the ache. I’m guessing this is just how he felt about me at seventeen.”

 

Alex thinks back to how he’d felt about Kyle at that age for comparison, and has to admit that’s probably accurate. “If it helps, he does seem to genuinely like you at twenty-eight. He’s told me so.”

 

“Was he drunk at the time?” Kyle wants to know.

 

“I can neither confirm nor deny this fact,” Alex declares, and they share a brief grin before reality sets back in. “I should probably be getting him home, shouldn’t I?”

 

“Mhm,” Kyle nods. “Make sure he rests, and don’t let him do anything with that hand. If he’ll let me, I’ll take a look at it again before the next switchover, and I will definitely be examining it at that point. I don’t care how many times he gives me the evil eye.”

 

Since technically Michael can do a lot worse than glare at someone, Alex thinks the glaring might well be the least of their problems. On the other hand, Michael’s never been the sort of person to lose control that way. 

 

Sighing, Alex focuses back on where he’s now standing fully dressed near the edge of the hospital bed. “You ready to go?” He asks once he’s sure he’s got Michael’s attention.

 

“Definitely,” is the reply, quickly followed by an only semi-faked shudder. “I hate hospitals.”

 

“I know,” Alex says gently. Picking up Michael’s overnight bag, he slings it over his shoulder before the boy can try and convince him he can carry it on his own. “Let’s head out then.”

 

Nodding goodbye to Kyle, he exits the room with Michael trailing carefully after him. Then it’s a short walk out of the hospital and through the parking lot to where he’d left his vehicle the night before.

 

Michael climbs into the car with relative ease, but the seatbelt quickly presents a problem. When he has trouble with it one-handed, he motions with his left, and Alex nearly strains something beating him to the punch.

 

“I’ve got it,” he insists, careful not to bump the mass of bandages swaddled around the injured limb. He snaps the belt into place, and then gives Michael a quick pat on the shoulder. “See? All good.”

 

“Thanks,” Michael says quietly, shifting in his seat to try and find a more comfortable position. “I could’ve done it though.”

 

“I’m sure you could have,” Alex replies, hoping he doesn’t sound patronizing when he does so, “but I want to help. Okay?”

 

He holds Michael’s gaze for what feels like forever, until finally he gets a nod in response. “Okay,” Michael says. Followed by, “I’m ready to go home.”

 

Not needing to be told twice, Alex starts the car and drives.

 

*****

 

If Alex thinks the dramatics are going to end there, he is sorely mistaken. The immediate trauma of having his hand mutilated must have pushed the rest of year seventeen’s worst memories to the back of Michael’s mind, but after a couple days of convalescing new problems begin to emerge.

 

He first notices it during a call from the Evans twins. They’re in Chicago unexpectedly, the first large city Noah’s deigned to lead them through, and Isobel’s taken advantage of same to park them in a nice hotel for once.

 

Michael talks to her eagerly, cradling the phone in one hand while he uses his telekinesis to manipulate a carton he’s trying to open, so he can avoid putting any pressure on the other.

 

Alex slinks over to offer to help, but he’s brushed aside easily as Michael continues chattering with his sister. He watches, feeling mildly amused, until all of a sudden Michael’s body language shifts significantly.

 

“No,” he says stiffly, apparently in answer to a question Alex can’t make out. “I don’t want to talk to him.” He waits while a faint inquiring noise drifts across the line, and then, “Because I said so, Izzy. Why’s it matter? I’m sure he’s got other stuff he’d rather be doing.”

 

They talk for a little while longer, but Michael’s heart must no longer be in it. His responses get increasingly subdued, and finally he pulls the phone away and holds it out for Alex. “She wants to talk to you.”

 

Alex frowns. Max and Isobel always talk to him first when they call, so they can give him the rundown on where their situation stands and then afterwards chat with Michael for as long as they want. She’s never asked for him a second time around.

 

Hoping it’s nothing too serious, he takes the phone and proceeds to gently shoo Michael out of the room. Once he’s sure he’s settled in the living room with a snack and Alex’s own laptop, he zeroes in on the phone. “Hello?”

 

“Did you break my little brother?” Isobel asks without preamble. “What the hell, Manes? He won’t say a word to Max, or about him for that matter.”

 

Thinking back on it, Alex realizes that while Michael’s mentioned Isobel in passing over the last two days, which is normal for him, he hasn’t said anything about Max, which isn’t. “I didn’t do anything,” he says. “He’s probably just feeling off because of his hand.”

 

Isobel makes a strange noise. “His hand? What about his hand?”

 

“He didn’t say anything?” Alex asks. Trust Michael not to broach the subject if no one else does. “He’s caught up in the timeline to where it was injured. It happened two nights ago.”

 

“Oh shit,” she replies. “Stupid me, I didn’t realize we’d gotten that far, thought we still had a little time left. That explains the issue.” Her voice goes muffled, and Alex figures she’s saying something to Max.

 

He waits not so patiently for her to come back, and when she does it’s with an audible snort. “Great, now Max is sulking because Michael doesn’t like him. They barely spoke for ten years after the mess with Rosa Ortecho,” she clarified when Alex makes a questioning noise. “That was the same night Michael got hurt, and unless Max was arresting him and throwing him in the drunk tank, they didn’t have much contact until not long before you got home.”

 

“Right,” Alex says weakly. “I, uh, I knew that,” he adds. And it’s true, he had known everything, but he’d also failed to take into consideration any impact it might have now. “You want me to talk to him?”

 

“You can try,” she answers, “but if you think Michael’s stubborn and obstinate now, you should have seen him as a teenager,” she says, conveniently forgetting that Alex  _ has _ . “I doubt you’ll get anywhere with him.”

 

“Why don’t you let me worry about that,” Alex suggests. “In the meantime, you should probably make sure Max doesn’t brood too much. One of these days he’s face might actually stick like that.”

 

“Ugh, don’t I know it.” She replies. “Honestly, you’ve probably got the better end of the deal.”

 

Personally Alex doubts that, and as he ends the call, he can’t help but wonder what other surprises are in store for him thanks to Michael’s latest batch of memories.

 

*****

 

He gets his answer to that question a further two days later when he has to go into town to do some errands he can’t put off. He doesn’t want to drag Michael around with him the whole time since he’s still recuperating, but he also doesn’t want to leave him alone.

 

Kyle’s out. Michael’s default expression at the mere mention of him is a scowl that could practically burn a hole in the wall. However, when Alex next suggests dropping him off at Liz’s lab so they can hang out, he’s surprised when Michael pales.

 

“No,” he says weakly, suddenly very interested in a threadbare patch on the couch. He digs the fingers of his good hand into it, worrying it back and forth. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

 

“Why not?” Alex asks, confused. “You love Liz. She lets you mess around with experiments without anywhere near the appropriate levels of supervision.”

 

“I said no, okay?” Michael snaps. “I don’t want to see her.”

 

Alex feels the opening strains of a headache coming on. Michael’s been increasingly irritable all week, and while he’s trying not to let it get to him, Alex is starting to reach the end of his rope. “If that’s the way you’re going to be,” he says more tersely than intended, “will you at least tell me why?”

 

Much to his ire, Michael shrugs and refuses to meet his eye. “None of your business.” He shifts awkwardly on the couch, using his good hand to cradle the bad one as he moves. “You can leave me here alone. I don’t need a babysitter.”

 

“Michael,” Alex says warningly. “You know full well I’m not going to do that.”

 

“Why not?” Michael says snidely. “You left me behind before.”

 

Alex feels like he’s been sucker punched, and it must show on his face because Michael immediately looks ashamed.

 

“Sorry sorry,” he says, scrambling to get the words out. “I didn’t meant that, I swear.”

 

“Oh no, you absolutely did,” Alex corrects. Blowing out a heavy breath, he counts to ten in his head, willing himself to calm down, to not feel quite so betrayed. “What’s wrong, Michael? Something’s obviously bothering you, and I don’t think it’s just me leaving in the past.”

 

“I’m not bothered by anything,” Michael insists, but he’d be a lot more believable if he wasn’t staring resolutely at the floor. “I’m just - my hand hurts. That’s all.”

 

“There some acetone in the bathroom if you need it,” Alex replies, “and you’re lying.”

 

“No,” Michael shakes his head. “Not lying.”

 

“Michael.”

 

He watches for several long moments as Michael fidgets, seeming to shrink in on himself in the process. “Finally,” in the smallest voice imaginable, he asks, “Do you know about Rosa?”

 

Oh.

 

_ Oh _ .

 

“Oh, Michael.” Throwing caution to the winds, Alex drops down into the other space on the couch and brings Michael in for a hug. “No, come here,” he says, mindful of the bandaged hand as he holds on. “I’ve got you.”

 

“I know,” he promises. “We all know. Well, except maybe Maria, I’m not sure if anyone told her that part, but yeah. It’s not important, and,” here he takes Michael’s face in his hands, forcing him to make eye contact, “no one blames you for what happened.”

 

“They should,” Michael says wretchedly, looking near tears, “I mutilated those bodies. I made it look like it was Rosa’s fault. How are Liz and I supposed to be friends knowing that?”

 

Alex shakes him gently, now understanding why him suggesting Michael go hang out in the lab had caused such a stir. “That’s between you and Liz,” he says, “but I can tell you this. When you and Liz became friends in reality? She already knew everything about what happened to Rosa, and she didn’t hold it against you.”

 

“Really?” Michael doesn’t look convinced by Alex’s nod, but he does seem to settle a little. “Okay.”

 

“Okay?” Alex repeats, not entirely sure what that means. “Do you feel any better?”

 

“No,” Michael admits, which, at least he’s honest Alex supposes. “Please don’t make me go see her.”

 

“I’m not going to make you do anything,” Alex tells him, albeit slightly against his better judgement. He can’t wait to have to explain this one to Liz. “Can I take you to Maria then, or maybe have her come here? Would that work?”

 

Michael bites his bottom lip, and Alex waits with baited breath while he considers the suggestion. Finally, after what feels like an eternity has passed, he nods. “Yeah, I guess.”

 

It’s not exactly a ringing endorsement, but Alex is going to take what he can get. Nodding, he turns away from Michael to go in search of his phone.

 

Maria agrees to keep Michael company, but insists she do it out at the cabin. “He’s getting too recognizable,” she says when Alex asks why. “He looks like himself, but weirdly younger. Add the messed up hand into the equation and we can’t pass him off as a relative or something. People will get suspicious.”

 

Acknowledging her point, Alex nevertheless isn’t happy about this when he hangs up. They’ve kept Michael pretty fairly sequestered over the past four months, but not so much that he wasn’t able to leave home. He doesn’t want to have to limit that freedom even more.

 

“Maria’s on her way,” he says, stepping back out into the living room. “I’ll leave as soon as she’s here.”

 

“‘Kay,” Michael says, barely glancing up from where he’s futzing around with Alex’s laptop. “Where’re you going, anyway?”

 

“Nowhere exciting,” Alex assures him. “Just gonna run a bunch of errands.”

 

“Mmm,” Michael still sounds withdrawn after their earlier conversation, but that doesn’t stop him from shuffling over to lean into Alex’s side when he sits down. “Sorry for making things difficult.”

 

“You’re not,” Alex promises, a fact he reiterates a half an hour later when he’s on his way out the door while Maria comes in and immediately begins fussing over the state of Michael’s hand. “You two have fun while I’m gone. Try not to get into any trouble without me.”

 

“No promises,” Maria calls after him, and Alex smiles for what feels like the first time in ages. “Bring back take out when you’re done. I’ll consider it my payment.”

 

*****

 

Alex sees Kyle before he sees Michael on the first day of week eighteen. Having shown up early, the doctor lets himself in while Alex is still nursing his first cup of coffee at the breakfast table, and Michael has yet to show his face.

 

Quirking an eyebrow at him, Alex sighs. “You look nervous.”

 

“Uh yeah,” Kyle replies. “The last time I saw him, the kid tore a strip off me, rightfully so, admittedly, and I’m not expecting much of an improvement today. Are you?”

 

Alex isn’t, but he’s trying to remain optimistic regardless. “Who knows what’s going to happen?”

 

“I do,” Kyle says simply, “and so do you. Unfortunately, I need to be here almost as much as ever to get that dressing off his hand, and see what kind of shape it’s in. What do you think the odds are he stabs me when I do that?”

 

“Michael is not a stabbing kind of person,” Alex says after thinking it over. “He’s much more inclined to just punch someone in the face when he doesn’t like them.”

 

“Because that makes me feel so much better,” Kyle says dryly. “Where is he, anyway? Still in bed?”

 

“Mhm,” Alex replies, taking another sip of his drink. “Maybe he’s like all teenagers everywhere now and taking advantage of being able to sleep in late. You want some coffee?”

 

Kyle eyes the pot where it’s still resting half full in the machine, and shrugs. “Sure. Why not?”

 

They nurse their respective mugs in companionable silence until they hear the sound of a door opening in the hallway. “Alex,” Michael says, his voice getting louder as he moves closer, “my hand feels funny.”

 

Kyle and Alex are both already on their feet and moving towards him when he comes into the kitchen.

 

“What do you mean by funny?” Alex asks, at the same time Kyle says, “Define funny.” 

 

Michael’s expression is caught somewhere between consternation and annoyance. Alex can practically see the debate going on inside his head where Kyle is concerned, but in the end the better option wins out. 

 

“It doesn’t feel like I’m used to,” he says, thrusting the still bandaged limb towards Kyle. “Not in a bad way, but it’s different. I can’t explain it.”

 

“Alright, sit down and let me unwrap it so I can have a look.” Nudging Michael towards the nearest chair, Kyle claims the one next to him while Alex tries and fails not to hover nearby.

 

After far too long in Alex’s opinion, Kyle has the entirety of the bandages out of the way, and the three of them stare as one at the exposed hand.

 

Michael’s the first one to break the silence. “That’s ... not what I remember it looking like,” he says dubiously. “Does it look different to you guys too?”

 

“Yes,” Alex breathes, unable to say anything else. Most of the scaring around the knuckles is missing, the middle and ring finger are practically straight to the point of normalcy, and even the pinkie, always the most damaged of the lot, is nowhere as crooked as it should be. “What the hell?”

 

“I think - it must be because it was properly set this time,” Kyle decides. “This is what it might have looked like if you’d gone for treatment when it first happened.”

 

Raising the hand to eye level, he examines it critically. “Can you flex your fingers for me?”

 

Michael does so, the dexterity notably better than it was the last time Alex had seen it injured. “Holy shit.”

 

“Holy shit indeed,” Kyle agrees, his face splitting into an enormous grin. “Try and make a fist. Okay, not perfect, but still pretty good. How’s it feel? Is there any pain?”

 

“A little,” Michael admits, now opening and closing his fist with a look of wonder gracing his features. “It’s nothing like I remember, though. Not at all.”

 

“Awesome, that’s so great.” Still grinning, Kyle leans forward like he’s about to go in for a hug, only to pull back at the last second when Michael flinches. “Right! Sorry, sorry, my bad. Uh, how do you feel everywhere else?”

 

Michael shrugs. “Same as always. Nothing out of the ordinary,” he says, but there’s something off about his voice that Alex can’t quite put his finger on. “Do you need anything else?”

 

Kyle runs him through the usual check up procedure, this time with a few more added stretches of his bad hand, but he doesn’t stay long after that. The previous week’s tension returns as he works, and it becomes obvious pretty quickly that Michael just wants the whole experience over with.

 

After he’s gone, Michael takes some time to simply examine his hand on his own. As Alex watches, he starts opening and closing it repeatedly, cocking his head to the side like he can’t believe what’s happened.

 

Which Alex supposes is fair, especially since he’s essentially in the same boat, and likewise can’t bring himself to stop staring at the dramatically improved skin. “Does it feel weird?” He asks, unable to help himself.

 

For the first time in ages, Michael glances up from his own fingers. “Yeah,” he admits. “It’s like - I can remember what it used to look like, what it used to feel like. Kind of like a phantom pain, I guess.”

 

Having been on the receiving end of that himself a number of times, Alex nods. “Is there anything you want for it?”

 

Michael blinks, and then his eyes narrow in a way that makes Alex feel like he’s inadvertently overstepped. “Like what? I don’t think there’s anything I can do but wait and see what happens. Either way, it’s better than it was.”

 

“Okay,” Alex says, still feeling like something’s off. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

 

Several weighted seconds pass by before Michael blows out a heavy breath through his nose, not unlike someone who’s searching for patience. “You didn’t come see me when you were home on leave.”

 

Having wondered if that might’ve been it, Alex nods. “I didn’t,” he agrees. “You’re right.”

 

“I tried to see you,” Michael continues, and it’s Alex’s time to take a deep breath as he remembers the handful of days he’d spent in Roswell doing everything he possibly could to avoid anyone who knew him. “I wanted to talk. You wouldn’t let me.”

 

“I know,” Alex says, seeing no point in denying it. “I’m sorry.”

 

If he’s hoping the apology might help, he’s sorely mistaken. Michael shifts in his seat, gazing at him in a way that all but dares him to look away. “You told me you came back for good eventually. How long did you take?”

 

“Too long,” Alex replies. “Long enough that I still have trouble believing you waited.”

 

Michael’s eyes narrow, anger flashing in their hazel depths. “That’s not an answer,” he snaps. “How long, Alex?”

 

“You don’t want to know,” Alex tells him, trying to avoid having to say it. “It was - you just don’t.”

 

“Stop fucking around!” Michael barks. “You’re not being fair. How long did you make me wait?”

 

Never having heard him put it quite like that before, Alex swallows. “Ten years,” he admits softly. “It wasn’t until the mess with my leg, when I came back for good, that I tried to fix it.”

 

“I’m not telling you why though,” he says preemptively, knowing full well Michael’s going to demand that as well. “I will eventually in our future, but I’m not doing it now. It’ll only make you feel worse.”

 

Michael had taken it poorly enough as an adult. Hearing that Alex had only enlisted because his father threatened to finish the job he’d started in the toolshed had been enough to almost destroy their second chance before it’d gotten off the ground. There’s no way in hell Alex is putting that pressure on the shoulders of a kid.

 

Not that Michael’s going to take that well, of course. Alex watches as he very carefully splays both his hands out on the table, tension visible through the faint tremors that shake them. “That’s not fair,” he says flatly.

 

“Plenty of things aren’t,” Alex says, as if either of them needs the reminder. “You’re  not getting this one out of me, Michael. Not today, anyway, so you might as well just let it go.”

 

“You mean like you let me go?” Michael asks, and unlike the last time he’d cut to the quick over Alex leaving, there’s no hint of remorse in his words. “Dick move, Manes.”

 

Alex sternly tells himself he can’t take this personally. Michael’s confused and he’s hurt, and he’s lashing out because that’s what he does when he’s trying to avoid being both of those things. Unfortunately, knowing that doesn’t prevent it all from stinging like hell.

 

Licking suddenly dry lips, he pushes his chair back from the table, fisting his hands in his pockets to try and hide the way they’re shaking. “I think maybe you need a little space,” he says as decisively as he can. “I’m gonna go ... do something. Give a shout if you need me.”

 

Michael doesn’t say anything as he leaves the room, and he honestly doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

 

*****

 

Max and Isobel reappear in the middle of week twenty, and Alex has never been so relieved to see another person. Even the medics who’d saved his life in Iraq now take a second seat to the Evans twins, who show up unannounced outside the cabin one morning looking like hell.

 

“You couldn’t have at least said you were coming?” Alex asks when he goes outside to meet them. “Even a quick heads up text would’ve been nice.”

 

“Phones are fried, it’s a long story,” Max says tiredly, but at least he bothers to answer. Isobel, her hair a mess and with a jagged cut on her forehead that looks like it could use stitches, is too busy trailing up the front steps, looking like a woman in a daze.

 

“Where is he?” She asks almost dreamily. “I can -“

 

The front door slams open, and Michael bursts outside shouting her name. Paying no attention to Max or Alex, he flings himself into his sister’s arms, grabbing her up in a bear hug that she returns just as fiercely.

 

“You’re back,” Alex hears him say, and something twists low in his gut because he can also make out the words that are left unsaid.  _ You’re back _ , he says, but also,  _ and you can take me away from here. _

 

“Yeah, yes, we’re back,” Isobel promises, one hand clutching Michael to her while the other pets his hair. “We both came back, just like we promised. Sorry it took so long.”

 

“It’s okay,” Michael tells her, but it’s obvious he’s talking only to her while ignoring Max completely.

 

Alex turns to explain why to Max, but finds him already shaking his head in resignation. “We know,” Max says when Alex raises his eyebrows. “We found the answers we needed.”

 

“And Noah?” Alex asks, afraid of what the answer might be.

 

Max grimaces. “Still alive and on the run again,” he admits, kicking the ground beneath him in frustration. “We finally managed to catch up with him, and held him long enough to get the info we were needed, but he broke free after. We figured it was better to get back here than to keep chasing him.”

 

He has no idea. Not knowing what else to do, Alex shifts to again watch Michael and Isobel. She’s got her face in his hands  now, and is eagerly telling him how much bigger he’s gotten.

 

“No shit, Iz, I hadn’t noticed.”

 

It’s the most like himself Alex has heard Michael sound since the night in the hospital, and there’s a selfish part of him who hates how he’s not the person responsible for it. Things really have gotten out of hand. 

 

“You’re taking him home, aren’t you?” He asks quietly. The cabin may yet again be Michael’s home as an adult, but right now it feels more like a prison than anything else, with the two of them tiptoeing around each other as Michael becomes more and more withdrawn.

 

Max gives him an indecipherable look, but then shrugs. “Iz will if he wants, I guess. He’s old enough now he can decide where he wants to go.”

 

“No,” Alex disagrees because he hasn’t spent the last three months going through this for nothing. “He’s still in the throes of weird alien technology. If one of you isn’t going to take him, I’ll keep him.”

 

“That won’t be necessary,” Isobel says before Max can reply. She’s got her hands on Michael’s elbows now, and her expression is knowing. “He can come back with me.”

 

As Alex watches, she swipes her hair out of her eyes, tying it back in the usual ponytail before turning to Michael. “Why don’t I help you get your things while Max gives Alex the rundown on what’s happened? I can do the same thing for you inside.”

 

For the briefest of moments, Michael looks torn. He chews absently on his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth like he does when he’s not sure how to respond, but quickly comes to a decision. “Okay.”

 

Alex watches him as he retreats back into the cabin, Isobel following close on his heels, and he blows out a heavy breath when the door closes behind them.

 

“Rough day?” Max asks sympathetically, and Alex shrugs.

 

“Rough few weeks is more like it,” he explains. “It was pretty manageable for the most part, but after he got the memories of the night Rosa Ortecho died and everything that came after it ...” Alex shrugs again, letting Max fill in the gaps.

 

Luckily he does, or at least he doesn’t pressure Alex for further details, which is basically the same thing in his books. He nods towards the pair of chairs Alex keeps out on the porch. “Can we sit?”

 

Since it doesn’t effect him one way or the other, Alex nods. He watches Max settle in across from him, thinking yet again that the man looks exhausted. “Trip was that bad, huh?”

 

“And then some,” Max agrees. “I feel like we chased Noah halfway across the country, only to come up with a result that basically amounts to ‘let it run its course, and he’ll be fine once it does’. Kind of anticlimactic when you think about it.”

 

Alex simply looks at him. “Tell me everything.”

 

Strangely enough, that makes Max crack a smile. Running a hand through his hair, he flicks his fingers to tug a snarled lock into shape, and then shrugs. “Well, for starters, I’m not kidding when I say we tracked him all over hell and creation. I swear to god, the more out of the way and off the beaten path a place was, the more Noah seemed to like it.”

 

“He’s a fugitive,” Alex says. “Running and hiding is kind of what they do.”

 

“And Noah did it better than most,” Max acknowledges. “He caught on to the fact that we were following him long before we ever caught up. It made him even harder to track.”

 

“But you did.”

 

“We did,” Max agrees, his lips twisting up in a faint smile, “but we were damned motivated. As I’m sure you can imagine.”

 

Alex nods, because of course he can. “Where did you wind up finding him?”

 

“Maine,” is the reply, and Alex has to blink at the unexpected destination. Given where Noah had started out, where he’d ended up was no small distance. “About to board a ferry that would bring him up to Canada.”

 

“He’d hate it up there,” Alex says dismissively. “Too cold for his delicate sensibilities.”

 

“Too cold for mine too,” Max says. “To say nothing of Isobel’s.”

 

He frowns at the mention of his sister, which makes Alex curious. Not to mention somewhat nervous. This mission would have been harder on her than on Max for a number of reasons.

 

“How is she?” He asks, even though that has less of a bearing on whatever information they’ve brought back. “How did she take seeing Noah again?”

 

Max wrinkles his nose. “The word explosive comes to mind,” he admits. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so gleeful about stabbing another person in the neck as she was when she gave him the serum.”

 

Alex winces. “That’s probably not good.”

 

Max waves a hand, as if he’s trying to brush off unwanted thoughts. “It is what it is,” he decides. “And she deserved to get a little of her own back after everything.”

 

Supposing that’s a fair point, Alex nods. “So what happened after you tracked him down and gave him the drug?”

 

Now, Max grins. “Well,” he says slowly, “he wasn’t very happy, I can tell you that much. There was a lot of yelling and swearing and threatening to kill us both. That kind of thing. It was almost funny given that he was powerless at the time.”

 

“Except for the fact that he had information you needed,” Alex reminds him.

 

“Yeah,” he says, sobering. “Except for that.”

 

Alex has a sneaking suspicion he knows what happened, and it’s confirmed when Max sighs. 

 

“He wouldn’t tell us anything unless we agreed to let him go afterwards,” he says unhappily. “We talked it over, fought about it, really, and in the end made the call that Michael was more important.”

 

Since he’d probably have made the exact same call, Alex doesn’t so much as bat an eyelid. “Of course you did,” he says instead, amused by Max’s resulting startled look. “So what did he tell you?”

 

Max gives him a long look, before shrugging. “I won’t bother trying to pronounce its actual name,” he says, leaning back in his chair and resting his hands on the arms, “but the best translation I can give you is second childhood.”

 

“And no,” he adds when Alex scoffs, “It’s not a reference to dementia. It’s something some of our people do, or did rather, when they were nearing the end of their lives. Basically it was a one-shot deal to go back and experience the whole thing all over again before they passed.”

 

“That sounds ... bizarre,” Alex says, hoping he’s not being offensive in doing so. “Why would anybody ever want to do that?”

 

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Max  replies. “I guess it’s a cultural thing. Anyway, the tech Michael was playing around with was the machine used to trigger the whole reset. Noah figures it keyed onto him when he touched it, and just assumed he was looking to have the whole experience.”

 

“Hence why it fired him back to infancy,” Alex surmises. “Is there any way to reverse it? I mean, we’re twenty weeks down with only eight left to go, but if there’s any way for a quicker way out, I’m all for it, and I think Michael would be too.”

 

Max shoots him a sympathetic look, thereby implying Alex had let more emotion than he’d intended slip into his speech. “Apparently there’s a second device that goes with the first in the event of emergencies. If we had it we could essentially fast forward the process.”

 

“If?” Alex echoes, on the word like a terrier with a bone.

 

“Yeah, sorry,” Max says. “Noah described it for us, and it didn’t sound like anything we’ve collected from the crash site. It looks like we’re stuck taking the long way around.”

 

“Noah could be lying,” Alex suggests. “He enjoys doing that, and it’s not like he’s not good at it.”

 

“True,” Max nods, “and he very well may be, but do you want to risk Michael’s well-being on that? Don’t bother answering, we both already know what you’re going to say.”

 

Alex grumbles under his breath, but nods. “So then we just ride it out, and it’ll stop once he reaches his proper age?”

 

“Yeah, the whole deal is to let you have previous experiences over again. It can’t move you forward beyond anything you haven’t already lived. In a couple months this’ll be over, and he’ll be Michael again.”

 

“Thank god,” Alex says fervently. For all that he hasn’t really minded taking care of this version of Michael throughout the process, he misses his own like some people might miss a limb, and he’s already a particular expert in this area.

 

“He’s not very happy with me right now,” he says then, “or with most of us to be honest. Maria’s pretty much the only person in town who’s company he doesn’t actively avoid at the moment. Well, her and I guess now Isobel.”

 

Max doesn’t look pleased by this news, but nor does he look surprised. “I was kind of a dick to him at the stage he’s at right now. It sucks, but I get it.”

 

Alex nods, and strums his fingers against the arms of the chair he’s planted in. “So, to recap, you found Noah, temporarily rendered him powerless, got the info you wanted, let him go in exchange, and now you’re back to ride out the last of this thing with the rest of us. Have I got that right?”

 

Unexpectedly, Max smiles in a way that Alex isn’t accustomed to seeing on his face. “Mostly,” he says, “but you’ve got one key detail wrong.”

 

“Which is?”

 

Max grins. “We told Noah we’d let him go. We never said anything about giving him the antidote.”

 

Alex stares at him for a while, feeling his own smile start to grow. “Bet he was pissed,” he says at last.

 

“Pissed doesn’t even begin to do it justice,” Max admits, “but there was only so much I could bring myself to do, even for Michael’s well-being. Bad enough I had to let a serial killer go, albeit temporarily, I wasn’t handing him the mechanism to hurt a bunch more people.”

 

“That’s fair,” Alex says. “Honestly, Michael would be livid if you had. Or at least the grown version of him would have been.”

 

“Yeah,” Max says. “I thought the same thing.”

 

*****

 

Michael and Isobel emerge from the cabin not long after that, and Alex finds himself scrambling to his feet without even thinking about it, not unlike the way he used to when summoned to attention. He watches as Isobel murmurs something low in Michael’s ear, leaning over to take one of the bags he’s carrying from him.

 

Whatever she’s saying sees Michael make a face and start shuffling over towards Alex and Max, where he ignores his brother entirely in favour of giving Alex a look he can’t read.

 

“Izzy told me everything,” he says finally. “Did Max bring you up to speed?”

 

“He did,” Alex says. Turning to nod at Max in confirmation, he’s surprised to find that the other man has sidled off without his noticing, and is now helping Isobel load up the jeep. “Sounds like they had quite the trip.”

 

“Yeah,” Michael says quietly, “but they’re back now.”

 

“I had noticed that, yes,” Alex says, pleased when his weak attempt at a joke makes Michael smile at least a little. “And now we have the answers they went looking for.”

 

“Mhm,” Michael says. He shuffles his feet awkwardly, scuffing one boot over the worn wood of the porch as he fidgets, and he opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, clearly trying to say something.

 

Alex takes pity on him. “I’m not upset that you want to go back to staying with Isobel,” he says firmly, which is true. “I want you to be comfortable where you are, and I’m glad you have another option.”

 

“She said the same thing as you,” Michael tells him. “She won’t let me stay somewhere by myself until this is all over. She said she’d follow me and sleep in the airstream if I tried, and that she’d make me sleep on the floor while she took the bed.”

 

Alex laughs. “Sounds like your sister, alright. At least at her house you’ll get your own space.”

 

“Yeah.” Michael starts shuffling again, and runs a hand through his already tangled hair before heaving out a massive sigh. “Speaking of space ... will you - will you be mad if I don’t see you again until I’m back to normal?”

 

“It’s just -“ he rushes to say when Alex sucks in an involuntary breath, “- it hurts, Alex. It hurts being here because even though I know things are going to turn out okay, every year I remember these days is another one where you didn’t come back, and the distance between us grows stronger. I know you’re right here at the same time, but I don’t know how to separate the two in my head, and -“

 

“Michael, Michael, it’s alright.” Holding up his hands to forestall anymore babble, Alex cuts him off midstream. “I get it, I do, and I don’t want to hurt you. I made you wait for almost ten years, I can handle a few weeks on my end.”

 

He doesn’t want to, of course. In fact, the very idea is enough to turn his stomach, but he can’t make this about him, not when Michael’s staring at him, his face a picture of abject misery as looks to Alex to try and make a messy situation better.

 

“You go with Isobel,” he forces himself to say. “Let her make a fuss over you, and then come find me when you’re ready. I’ll be waiting.”

 

“Promise?” Michael asks, and if Alex ever needed confirmation of how much of an impact his walking away the first time had done, he has it now. It is painfully obvious that Michael doesn’t know if it’s safe to believe him. No matter how much he might want to. 

 

That’s on Alex, though, and the best thing he can do now is just stand tall and be ready whenever Michael is. “Of course, I promise,” he says firmly, injecting every ounce of sincerity he possibly can into the words. “A hundred percent.”

 

Daringly, he opens his arms. “Come here.”

 

Much to his surprise, Michael practically dives into the embrace, nearly tripping over his own feet in his rush to reach him. His arms wrap around Alex in a bone jarring hug, forcing the air out of his lungs with how tightly he holds on. 

 

“Hey,” Alex says soothingly, running a hand over his back. “It’s okay.”

 

“Doesn’t feel okay,” Michael mutters, his voice muffled by the way he has his face pressed into Alex’s shoulder. “I want to believe you, and I know I  _ should _ , but I  _ can’t _ .”

 

“I know,” Alex murmurs, “but that’s alright. No, really, it  _ is _ ,” he stresses when Michael makes a scoffing sound. “I’m telling you one thing, while your memories are telling you something completely different. You’re allowed to be confused by that.”

 

“But here’s the thing,” he continues on, pulling back far enough that he can look Michael in the eye. “I love you. I love you now, and I loved you then. I know we have to wait to run out the clock on this whole stupid situation, but I will wait. There’s no way I won’t. You may not remember it yet, but I told you a year ago that I was done walking away, and I meant it. Do you hear me?”

 

“Yeah,” Michael says raggedly. “Yeah, I hear you.”

 

“Good.” Forcing himself to release his hold, Alex lets him go and takes a few steps back for added measure. “Now, get out of here before Isobel sends Max over to subtly hint that it’s time to leave. I hate that awkward fake cough thing he does whenever he’s trying to break into a conversation.”

 

“Right?” Michael says, and if he doesn’t quite manage to hide the hitch in his voice, he gives it a pretty serious try. “It’s so stupid.”

 

He leaves then, climbing into the back of Max’s jeep without another word, and leaving Alex behind on the porch steps, watching the three of them drive away. Eventually the vehicle disappears out of sight, resulting in an eerie silence descending around the area.

 

Shaking his head, Alex tells himself it’s far too early for him to get maudlin about this. He has the better part of two months to go before Michael catches up with his appropriate age. If he starts letting the mess get to him now, he’ll go crazy by the time it’s over.

 

Taking a deep breath, he walks into the cabin, ready to start the wait.

 

*****

 

Waiting sucks. It’s been three weeks since he’s laid eyes on Michael, and after so much time together over the fast few months, to say nothing of the fact that they’d been all but living together prior to the accident, Alex feels ready to crawl out of his skin. It’s awful.

 

“At least he doesn’t despise you,” Kyle says morosely when he voices this thought aloud. “I see him once a week on switchover day, and he reams me out every time.”

 

The two of them, plus Liz, are seated at a table in the Pony, having decided independently of each other that if they were going to be miserable they may as well do it together. Also while getting drunk. Periodically Maria swans by to replace their drinks and cluck disapprovingly.

 

“That’s easy for her to say,” Kyle grumbles after the third time she’s done it. “From what I understand, aside from Isobel, she’s the only one of us he’s still willing to see.”

 

“Technically she didn’t say anything,” Liz muses, “but you’re right. I talked to her a couple of days ago and she told me he comes around every once in a while when he’s going stir crazy. I suppose he doesn’t feel like he can go anywhere else.”

 

“Not since the rest of us became public enemy number one,” Alex mutters, trying and failing not to sound bitter. “If you think you’ve got it bad, Kyle, try being the one he won’t even look at. I haven’t seen him once since Max and Isobel got back into town.”

 

“I guess,” Kyle huffs. “I just miss my buddy, is all.”

 

“Yeah, well I’ve missed my boyfriend for the past twenty three  weeks, but somehow I’ve managed to deal. Suck it up, Valenti.” He doesn’t mean to sound quite so snide, but the last few days have been more hellish than most for some reason, so Alex can’t help but feel like he’s entitled.

 

Luckily, Kyle just waves him off. “I know, I know,” he says. “I’m being ridiculous.”

 

“Not ridiculous,” Liz cuts in. “None of us are being ridiculous. We’ve spent weeks in a very specific dynamic that we’ve gotten used to, and now that’s changed dramatically. It’s okay to feel upset and unsettled.”

 

Kyle salutes here with his beer. “You were always too good for me, Ortecho.”

 

“Of course I was,” she agrees. “You knew that though.”

 

Kyle cracks the closest thing to a smile he has all night, and Liz returns the gesture with one of her own. Neither one manages to keep up appearances for long though, and Alex knows he’s not any better.

 

“We really are a bunch of miserable sadsacks these days, aren’t we?” He asks.

 

Liz nods solemnly. “Oh hell yeah,” she agrees, taking a swig of her beer. “I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t too busy being bummed out. Who’d have thought one kid would get us all wrapped around his finger so easily? I mean, not that he’s a kid anymore, but still. I miss my friend.”

 

“You miss your friend, Alex misses his partner, we all miss him,” Kyle declares. “Great to know we’re all on the same page, now what do we do about it?”

 

Alex swats him under the table. “You know the answer to that question. We wait.”

 

“Ugh,” Kyle replies, propping his chin in his hands with a sigh. “Thanks, I hate it.”

 

As noted, Alex can’t help but disagree.

 

*****

 

It’s well into week twenty five before heading Alex sees Michael again, and it happens entirely by accident. The elderly toaster that’s called the cabin home since probably before Alex was born has finally given up the ghost, and he’s wandering down an aisle of the nearest department store when he collides with a familiar body.

 

Michael looks, well, he looks like Michael. He’s regained his full height, filled out to his normal weight, and his hair is the same tousled mess that Alex loves running his fingers through. If it weren’t for the way his eyes widen and then skitter away to look at anything but his face, Alex would think he was back to normal.

 

He clears his throat awkwardly. “Hey,” he says, hoping like hell his voice doesn’t crack under the stress. “How are you?”

 

Initially all he gets is a shrug in response, but after a few uncomfortable beats have passed, Michael shifts to look at him. “M’good,” he mutters. “You?”

 

“Honestly, it’s been a shitty few weeks,” Alex says, a little surprised at himself for being so upfront about his feelings. “I miss you.”

 

“...oh,” Michael says, his expression such that he clearly wasn’t expecting to hear that either. “I’m sorry?”

 

“Don’t be,” Alex rushes to say. He curls both hands around the box he’s carrying, wanting to keep them occupied lest he do something stupid like reach out to touch Michael without his permission. “I still get why you want to stay away for now. I promise.”

 

Michael swallows heavily. “Okay,” he says. “I, uh, I saw Liz the other day. At her lab. We talked.”

 

“I know,” Alex says, once again feeling the stab of jealousy that had lanced through him when Liz called to say Michael had shown up at her lab out of the blue. He gets that she’s the easiest one for him to make peace with at the moment, but it still stings. “She was really happy you stopped by.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Michael shrugs, which is apparently his default gesture today. “Izzy was on my ass about it, and, I dunno. It’s different with Liz than it is with anybody else. Like you, I mean, or Valenti. Or Max.”

 

Alex nods, wanting to show understanding. “I get it,” he says. “It’s good you felt you could go to her.”

 

“I didn’t, not really,” Michael admits, “but she was cool about everything when I finally showed up, so I’m glad I went.” His gaze flits over Alex’s face briefly before he adds quietly, “I still don’t feel like I can go to you. Sorry.”

 

Alex isn’t going to pretend that doesn’t hurt, but nor is he going to try and make Michael feel guilty about it. “It’s okay,” he says, and in a way he’s not even lying. “I told you I’d wait, so that’s what I’m doing.”

 

“Mmm,” Michael hums. “Less than three weeks to go and I should remember everything.”

 

“Yeah,” Alex agrees, wondering if he’s the only one keeping a daily countdown. “I’ll - uh - I’ll make sure I hang around the cabin the day of,” he says lamely. “In case you’re looking for me.”

 

Michael gives him a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but at least he doesn’t say he has no intention of stopping by when this is over. For now, Alex will take what he can get.

 

*****

 

Alex is a bundle of nerves the night before what should be the last and final switchover. He hasn’t seen or heard from Michael since that day in town, and he’s gone over the interaction so many times in his head he’s starting to think it never happened.

 

What if things are still out of synch even once Michael is back to normal? His most painful memories, all the shit Alex pulled in the ten years they were separated, they’re going to be at the forefront of his brain. What if the memories of them reconnecting aren’t enough to outweigh everything else and Michael doesn’t want to come back to him?

 

The very idea is enough to keep him up at night, literally. He tries to turn in early, climbing into bed around ten o’clock with the idea that the sooner he falls asleep, the sooner morning will come. It doesn’t work, and he spends a solid hour tossing back and forth while rehashing every trick he’s ever learned about bringing on sleep.

 

None of them help, and he’s just about to give up and wander into the living room in search of something to do when the screen of his phone lights up, painting the ceiling with an eerie blue light.

 

Wondering who it could be that’s messaging him at this hour, he lets out an involuntary gasp when he’s sees Michael’s name staring back at him. It’s the first time he’s received a text from this number in seven months, and he’s almost afraid to look at what it says.

 

Of course, he can’t help himself, so he hits the button to bring up the message.

 

_ Are you sure you still want to see me tomorrow? _

 

Alex stares. The words are so unanticipated that at first his brain can’t comprehend what it’s just read. Then the meaning actually dawns on him, and he’s pressing the call button without thinking.

 

The phone rings twice, and then he hears, “Alex?”

 

“ _ Of course  _ I want to see you,” he blurts. “Did you think I was lying the last time we saw each other?”

 

“I ... no,” Michael says softly, “but it’s been weeks, months really, and I know I’ve been a pain in the ass about this, so if you don’t want to I’ll -“

 

“Michael, shut up,” Alex says, needing to cut him off before he utters anymore self-sacrificing bullshit. “I love you, alright? So much. I want to see you all the time. Even when you’re at you’re most annoying, your most frustrating, I still want to be there. I’ll respect your boundaries if you tell me no, but if you want to see me then I want to see you. End of story.”

 

“Oh,” Michael says, and if he were there in person Alex would be sorely tempted to smack him for the way he sounds surprised. “That’s good.”

 

Alex snorts, his exasperation instantly melting away into fondness. “It is,” he agrees. “More importantly, it’s the truth. Do you believe me?”

 

Michael’s quiet for a while, and Alex can just picture him wherever he is, maybe holed up in his truck, maybe in his bed at Isobel’s house, maybe somewhere else entirely, no doubt worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and frowning while he works his way through a puzzle.

 

“Yeah,” he says finally, and for a moment Alex feels downright lightheaded with relief. “I do.”

 

Those three words sound so simple, but there’s nothing simple about the way they make Alex feel. Breathing properly for what he’s sure is the first time in seven months, he stubbornly reminds himself that he  _ cannot _ go running to Michael in this instant. He made a promise to wait and let the other man come to him, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

 

“What are your plans for tomorrow?” He asks, forcing himself to remain calm. “Is there anything you want from me?” It’s not pushing if he asks Michael what he should be doing, he’s sure of it.

 

“I don’t have any,” Michael replies. “I was kinda just going to play it by ear.”

 

“Of course you were,” Alex notes, and it probably says something damning about him that he’s willing to go with the flow like this. “Okay, If that’s what you want then that’s what we’ll do.”

 

“So accommodating,” Michael teases, warmth infusing his tone. “Are you always going to be like this?”

 

“No,” Alex assures him. “We’re not perfect, Michael. We fight, we screw up, it happens. What matters is that we always manage to work it out in the end.”

 

Michael hums thoughtfully. “I like how that sounds,” he says, like he’s admitting to a deep, crushing secret, as opposed to something Alex is in fervent agreement with. “I like that we tried again.”

 

“Me too,” Alex tells him. Then he glances at the clock, surprised to see that it’s edging towards midnight. “It’s late, though. We should both get some sleep.”

 

“Why? You planning to wear me out tomorrow, private?”

 

The crack is so incredibly, inescapably  _ Michael _ that Alex can’t possibly contain the sharp bark of laughter it elicits. “You’re such an idiot,” he says, feeling like one good turn deserves another, “and I love you so much.”

 

“I know,” Michael replies, and there’s no hint of doubt in his voice now. He truly understands how Alex feels about him, and, more importantly, he trusts it. “I can come over whenever tomorrow, right?”

 

“Michael, you can come over right now, if you want,” Alex says. “I’ll be here.”

 

There’s silence on the other end of the phone for long enough that Alex can’t help but wonder if he’s going to get taken up on his offer. Then Michael sighs. “Tomorrow,” he says. “I think that’s for the best.”

 

“That’s fine,” Alex assures him. “Tomorrow.”

 

They hang up soon after, and Alex is asleep almost before his head hits the pillow.

 

*****

 

The sound of a vehicle pulling up outside startles him where he’s pacing a hole into the living room floor. Peering through the front curtains that he’s yet to open this morning, Alex sees Michael’s truck skidding to an awkward stop, and the man himself launching himself out of the cab before the wheels have fully settled.

 

Not to be outdone, Alex has the front door open and is stumbling down the steps between one blink and the next. They collide together somewhere in the middle of the driveway, Alex’s hands coming up to frame Michael’s face, while Michael’s arms wrap around his waist in a bone jarring hold.

 

“Is this -? Are you -?” Alex lets his hands roam where they can, tilting Michael’s head this way and that, cataloguing all the changes that have occurred since they’d seen each other last. “Please say you’re my Michael again.”

 

Michael laughs, loud and bright, the sound echoing through the air as he tightens his grip even further. “I am always, without fail, your Michael,” he promises, right before he kisses him.

 

Alex has had to go literal years without kissing or being kissed by Michael in the past, but the last few months feel like they’ve put all that to shame. After so much time spent dancing around each other and trying and failing to work their shit out he’d never wanted to be in a position where he couldn’t touch Michael any time he wanted. All of which comes flooding back now that he can do so again.

 

“I missed you,” he pants into Michael’s ear when the need to breathe forces them apart. “So much. Don’t you ever do this to me again, do you understand? I couldn’t handle it.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Michael says, which isn’t at all what Alex wants to hear. He wants an assurance that he’s not going to lose Michael, even to something temporary like this event had been. “I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

 

Alex supposes that will have to do. Fisting his hand in Michael’s shirt, he drags him down for another needy, messy kiss, only stoping so that he can push at his chest and begin herding him towards the house. “Inside,” he growls. “We have so much lost time to make up for.”

 

From the look on Michael’s face, he doesn’t have to be told twice. Smiling fit to burst, he lets Alex manhandle him into the cabin, stopping only occasionally to steal himself more kisses. 

 

“You saying you want to have your wicked way with me, private?” He teases. There’s a thud as his back hits the wall, causing him to let out a quiet ‘oof’. Then he grins. “I could get used to this.”

 

“Good,” Alex says succinctly, “because from where I’m standing we have a whole bunch of things we need to relearn.” Letting his hand trail downwards, he curls his fingers around Michael’s belt buckle and begins to tug.

 

Which is the exact moment that a harsh blaring sound reverberates throughout the entire cabin. The noise makes Michael jump, startled, but Alex merely groans in frustration.

 

“What is that?” Michael asks, looking around wildly to try and find the source of the intrusion.

 

Alex sighs, hoping it’ll go away if they ignore it. No such luck, the sound cuts off after a full ring through, only to immediately start back up again after barely a pause. Distantly, he wonders if this is payback.

 

“It’s the landline,” he says finally, struggling to be heard over the shrill ringing.

 

Michael blinks. “A landline?” He echoes. “Why the hell do we have a landline? No, better question, who the hell  _ knows _ that we have a landline?”

 

Alex sighs a second time. “Jim Valenti installed it years ago, back when cell service was still pretty crap out here. He kept it up in case of emergencies. As for the answer to your second question,” he shrugs ruefully, “I’ll give you three guesses, and the first two don’t count.”

 

As Michael’s eyes narrow at his words, Alex extricates himself from his hold, and wanders into the kitchen where the wall mounted phone is still screaming for all it’s worth. He picks it up.

 

“Oh good,” Kyle says on the other end of the line. “You’re alive.”

 

“I am,” Alex agrees, “but very soon you might not be.”

 

Rather than sound concerned, Kyle laughs. “You’re hilarious, Manes. I called both the Evanses to tell them I need Michael to come to me today because I’ve got a shift I can’t get out of. Funny thing, apparently he took off while Isobel was still in bed.”

 

“Funny thing,” Alex says absently, his attention caught by where Michael is emphatically gesturing for him to hang up. He flaps a hand in response to tell him to wait.

 

“Uh huh,” Kyle drawls. “I want him in here within an hour, Alex,” he says firmly. “As the last go-around this one might be different, so he should be checked out. If not, I’m faking sick and coming to you.”

 

“You wouldn’t like what you’d find,” Alex reminds him, but Kyle just scoffs.

 

“Neither of you has anything I haven’t seen before,” he promises. “An hour, Manes, or I won’t come by myself. I’ll bring the twins too.”

 

Alex winces as he hangs up the phone. That, unfortunately, is a threat he should take seriously. He turns back to Michael. “We have to meet Kyle at his office.”

 

Michael gives him a betrayed look.

 

*****

 

“Well, I’m happy to report that you’re as fit as ever.” Peeling his gloves off, Kyle rolls them into a ball and tosses them towards a nearby collection bin. “In fact, counting your hand, you’re arguably in better shape than you were before all this started.”

 

“Coulda told you that,” Michael grumbles, his voice slightly muffled as he chews on yet another of the suckers he’d insisted were his due for letting himself be dragged out of the cabin. He swings his feet from where he’s perched atop the examination table. “Can I go now?”

 

“Yeah,” Kyle says quietly, his pleased expression dimming slightly. Running a hand through his hair, he sighs. “Of course you can. Just promise to call me if anything strange happens, okay?”

 

“You know we will,” Alex says as Michael scrambles down off the table. “Thanks for, well ...”

 

“Everything,” Michael supplies from where he’s shrugging back into his coat. “The check ups, the late night calls, the babysitting, for not pitching me out the window whenever I drew all over your stuff.”

 

“And by stuff you mean my face?” Kyle asks dryly.

 

“Among other things,” Michael concedes, “but yeah, thanks for that too. I, uh, I owe you one.”

 

“You don’t,” Kyle is quick to assure him. “I was literally doing my job.”

 

“No. You weren’t.” Michael disagrees, and then to the surprise of everyone in the room, including possibly Michael himself, he steps forward and wraps his arms around Kyle in a loose hug. “Thanks, man. I mean it.”

 

Kyle doesn’t move for a moment, clearly too stunned by this turn of events, but then he hugs back with as much force as he can muster. “Anytime, buddy. Anytime.”

 

They break apart immediately afterwards, Michael shifting awkwardly and blushing faintly, while Kyle looks pleased as punch. Not willing to keep from knocking him down a peg, however, Alex can no longer keep silent.

 

“You realize he’s been telekinetically drawing on your back wall since we got in here, don’t you?”

 

Kyle whirls around, his face a picture of dismay when he sees the mess Michael’s made. “Goddamnit, Guerin! And with a permanent marker too!”

 

Cackling, Michael dodges the stethoscope Kyle chucks at him. Then he grabs Alex’s arm to begin hauling him from the room. “See you, Valenti! Have fun with that!”

 

Kyle’s irate swearing follows them out into the hallway, and they fall into step together, both of them snickering quietly as their hands somehow find each other’s without conscious thought.

 

“That was mean,” Alex admonishes, feeling like he should at least try and chastise Michael.

 

“But funny,” Michael says because he’s incorrigible. Rooting around in his pocket with his free hand, he pulls out at least half a dozen suckers, holding them up for Alex to see. “Here,” he offers, “I swiped ‘em when Kyle wasn’t looking. Pick a flavour.”

 

Alex knows full well the last thing he should do is encourage this behaviour, but Michael’s smile is infectious. Plus, he’s one hundred percent himself again, so it’s not like Alex has to worry about teaching him bad habits, as those are already well ingrained. Grinning, he takes a cherry flavoured candy.

 

*****

 

“Tell me what you remember.”

 

“Hmm?” Alex feels the warm body next to him shift, and eventually Michael’s head emerges from the tangle of blankets he’s got himself wrapped in. “What was that?”

 

Laughing, Alex stretches out an arm and lets his fingertips glide over Michael’s chest, enjoying the way the muscles flex beneath them. “The memories you got this morning were the ones that convinced you to come home. I want to hear what those were.”

 

“Is that so?” Michael asks, and his mouth turns up in a teasing grin when Alex nods. “That’s an awfully complicated request, don’t you think?”

 

“No,” Alex says simply, which for some reason makes Michael laugh. “Talk to me, Guerin. I’ve been waiting months for you to come back.”

 

His expression sobering, Michael grabs the hand Alex still has splayed out over his chest. Bringing it to his mouth, he starts by pressing a kiss to the back, and then proceeds to do the same for each individual knuckle. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I never -“

 

“Meant for this to happen,” Alex finishes. “I know, and it’s fine. You’re safe, so I’m happy. I would, however, appreciate having my question answered. If it’s not too much trouble, that is.”

 

He means for the words to come out jokingly, but Michael continues looking serious. “I remember us dancing around each other when you finally came home for good,” he starts. “I remember us sometimes getting it right, but more often getting it fucking spectacularly wrong.”

 

“I remember things coming to a head and you telling me you were tired of walking away, that you wanted to learn how to be friends, that you wanted to know everything about me. Which is not,” he adds slyly, “something people normally say when they just want to be friends. Trust me, I asked around.”

 

“I also,” he says, speaking over Alex’s ensuing snort, “remember shit going down with Noah. I remember thinking I was going to lose you without ever properly having you, and then I remember you saying you’d never meant ‘just’ friends. For the record, you could’ve saved us both a lot of grief if you’d led with that from the beginning.”

 

“I was trying not to pressure you,” Alex retorts, earning himself a slight nip of one finger in doing so.

 

“Believe me,” Michael laughs, “I wanted to be pressured. In fact, I seem to recall telling you exactly that the last time around.”

 

“Yeah, because you’re  _ incorrigible _ ,” Alex insists.

 

“That I am,” Michael agrees, “and I remember you wouldn’t change me for anything. Not for love, money, or alien invasion. You said so.”

 

“I was drunk.”

 

“Were you ever,” Michael laughs. 

 

He shifts suddenly, releasing Alex’s hand and shoving at him until he gets the message and rolls over onto his back, allowing Michael to sprawl on top of his chest like he has nowhere else he’d rather be. “You want to know what else I remember?”

 

Alex quirks an eyebrow at him. “I think you’ve pretty much covered all the important stuff, but okay. What else do you remember?”

 

Michael leans down to press their foreheads together. “I remember you always asking if it was alright before you picked me up or took my hand. I remember you tucking me in so I felt warm and safe. I remember you coming up with ways to handle all my weirdness and never once yelling when I did something I shouldn’t have. I remember you soothing every hurt, every fear, and making sure that I was surrounded by people who would do the same. I remember being loved, no matter how many times a new batch of memories told me I wasn’t. That’s what I remember.”

 

Alex swallows heavily. “Of course you were,” he says when he finds his voice. “So, so loved. And you still are.”

 

Michael smiles. “Lucky me.”

 


End file.
